


Until We Meet Again

by shinchiisanakyojin



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (From both sides. Based more on the countries than the actual race. But still...), (What a convenient tag.), (Yeah. Really.), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Concentration Camps, Established Relationship, Family, Family Dynamics, Fatherhood, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Parenthood, Racism, Racist Language, Refugees, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 78,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinchiisanakyojin/pseuds/shinchiisanakyojin
Summary: Vere and Akielos had always been at war. After centuries of territorial disputes, a treaty was signed and the formerly closed borders between the two countries were open, allowing Damen and Laurent to meet.Twenty years and three children later, the peace treaty falls apart and Veretians are taken from their homes into confinement camps, tearing their family apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> I promised another multi-chapter CP story and here I am, 14727492 years later, with it. (ಥ_ಥ)9
> 
> I'm ridiculously nervous (That's an understatement) about posting this, so I'll refrain from yapping here on the notes and just thank you in advance for reading. (;ω;)

In Akielos blue eyes and white skin stood out like the moon in the night sky. And if that was not enough, Nicaise's mature and independent posture, contrasting with the bright colors of his backpack made every head turn in his direction. He marched all the way across the school to the high schooler's section, heading straight to the backyard.

Nicaise searched the area; his piercing gaze roaming across a few faces before stopping at the tree he had been looking for. And just like he figured, there was his brother Pallas, being pressed against it by his boyfriend Lazar.

People around them glanced in their direction with disgust. Part out of the simple indecency of trying to steal someone's soul through their mouths; part out of sheer despise from seeing Akielos and Vere, brown and white, sharing intimacy.

None of that seemed to bother the couple, though. Pallas head was tilted to the side, his jaw dropped to allow Lazar to explore every inch of his mouth while Pallas' hand caressed the back of his head. Their bodies pressed together against the trunk. Nicaise, like any eight year old, felt nauseous from the scene. But his rage was greater than his disgust. He stomped to their side and inhaled deeply.

“Pallas!” Nicaise shouted as loud as he could.

“Ow!” Lazar yelped, backing away. His tongue bled from the bite and his head ached from the pull on his hair. 

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!” Pallas touched Lazar’s cheek. “Nicaise, what are you doing here!?” 

“You're late again!” Nicaise said.

“What? No way!” Pallas checked the clock on his left arm by wrapping it around Lazar's neck.

Lazar did not miss the chance to wrap his hand around Pallas' waist and kiss his cheek. Pallas giggled which earned him a kick on the calf.

“Ow! Nicaise! Don't do that!” Pallas said. “Sorry, I have to go. I'll call you later.” 

Pallas gave Lazar another peck on the lips, which led to another, and another, before leading to a handful of dirt to their faces from Nicaise. With that, Pallas finally left and the two brothers walked to the bus stop in silence.

“So, how was your day?” Pallas asked.

“Great until I had to see you and your boyfriend licking each other.” Nicaise replied.

“Nicaise! I didn't hear the bell. I was going to get you. And you know you shouldn't be walking around the school alone!” 

“Well, it was either that or I would wait forever!” 

“You would not! I just lost track of time.”

Pallas noticed the elder they shared a bench with furrowing his brows at them. And he was sure it had more to do with the fact they spoke Veretian than their heated discussion. Pallas smiled softly at him, trying to put on a good face.

The bus came and Pallas got his pass from his bag. He let Nicaise get on the bus first, then followed him. Nicaise unzipped his coat half way so he could show the bus driver his Residency Card, hanging from a colorful neck strap. The driver regarded it with a sour face and nodded once. Pallas nodded as well and smiled softly at the driver. Nicaise waited by the turnstile for Pallas to touch their pass at the machine and allow him into the bus. While Pallas did the same for himself, Nicaise found two free seats for them, being watched by the aggressive eyes of those around him. 

Pallas sat by Nicaise's side and gave him a candy from his own bag before caressing his head. It was an apology of sorts, which worked perfectly for Nicaise. By the time they reached the stop near their house the two brothers were having a thumb war and laughing. They got off the bus and walked for less than two minutes to their house.

While Pallas searched for his keys, Nicaise swung his arms and upper body around, waiting on the porch. He caught a glimpse of their neighbors, frowning at them. Pallas unlocked the door and quickly pulled Nicaise inside. They hung their backpacks on the hooks by the door and headed to the kitchen. 

Laurent set the plates on the island and checked the clock on the wall. His third and younger son, Théodore, had been placed on his high-chair and focused on chewing the discomfort of his growing teeth away on a toy. As Pallas and Nicaise walked in, two pairs of blue eyes traveled to them.

“Where were you? You should have been here half an hour ago.” Laurent said.

“Sorry. We-I got caught up into-” Pallas started.

“Lazar.” Laurent rolled his eyes. “Pallas, I've told you. When the bell rings, you have to pick up your brother.” 

“I'm sorry! I swear I didn't hear it!” Pallas sighed.

“Have you apologized to Nicaise?” Laurent asked.

“Yes.” 

“Good. Now go wash your hands. And Nicaise, did you wait for your brother?” Laurent said, turning his eyes to the younger.

Nicaise rolled his eyes to the right, avoiding Laurent's gaze. Laurent sighed and threw his head back, closing his eyes.

“Nicaise, I've told you to wait for Pallas. Even if he takes a while. You should always be next to a teacher.” 

“It was fine! No one bothered me this time!” 

“Still, you should not be going to the big kids building! This is not a discussion. Now go wash your hands and _do not_ wander around the school tomorrow.” 

Nicaise puffed his cheeks and marched out of the kitchen. Laurent sighed and placed his elbows on the island, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

Vere and Akielos had always been on the border of conflict. From the very beginning the two countries had had several impasses on treaties over a piece of land, and that would reflect on their society. Telling Akielons from Veretians was visually easy and it was even easier for Akielons to frown upon every marble-looking skin that crossed their paths.

The formerly closed boarders between the two countries had been opened twenty years ago, but hundreds of years of hate would not simply vanish. Biracial couples were still rare and mixed children highly unwanted. This ended up allowing Laurent and Damen to adopt Théodore. When he was born, Laurent was glad he and Damen had been the ones to take him.The blue eyes tainting his dark skin could have condemned him to a life of misery and abuse in any other family or orphanage.

Completely oblivion to Laurent’s thoughts, Théo threw his drooled toy in his direction with a giggle. Taken away from his own mind, Laurent returned him the toy with a soft smile and cleaned up the island. Nicaise and Pallas returned and they had lunch together.

  


\-------------

  


Damen returned to the house to be received by a cacophony of cries. Théodore was wailing, Nicaise was complaining about how loud the baby was, while Pallas and Laurent discussed.

“Pallas, no means no! Get off the phone! And Nicaise, perhaps the baby would be quieter if you had not woken him up!” 

“But dad, it's just for a couple hours!” Pallas argued.

“Pallas, if you don't stop asking to leave the house right now I will cut everything out of your life. No phone, no computers, and I swear I'll hire a security guard to keep Lazar away from you.” Laurent rose his voice, his patience clearly running low.

Pallas left muttering under his breath. Damen sighed and entered the house, reaching the living room. Not even Laurent could hide his relieved expression as Nicaise finally stopped whining and rushed to Damen.

“Daddy!” 

“Hey, kiddo.” Damen smiled and rubbed his head. “How was your day, huh?” 

“It was okay.” Nicaise replied. 

“Why don’t you tell me while I take a shower, huh?” 

Laurent smiled at him and mouthed a  _Thank you_ , while trying to calm Théodore. 

Nicaise was a daring and a somewhat difficult little child. But whenever he and Damen were left alone, he showed his true self. He was kind and quite talkative as he discussed the matters of the day with his father, through the glass door of the shower.

“...And when I got there Pallas was with Lazar again!” 

Nicaise told Damen about the events of the day sitting on the small balcony between the bathtub and the shower.

“I'll talk to him. He was wrong to leave you. But, you know, you should have waited for him. You know he'd come eventually and you can't be on your own.” Damen said, rinsing his hair.

“I know! But it's so unfair! Why does Pallas gets to walk around freely and I don’t?” 

Damen sighed, stepping out of the shower and drying himself up with his towel.

“Your brother is older than you, Nicaise. So he-”

“Liar. You know that's not why.” Nicaise said, idly playing with a bottle of liquid soap he sat beside.

Damen got dressed and caressed his son’s head. Nicaise leaned against his body as he did so and they were silent until Laurent walked into the bathroom.

“Are you done with your shower?” Laurent asked from the outside, through a gap.

Damen smiled softly and nodded once, waving at Laurent to come in. Laurent stepped inside  and planted a kiss on Damen's chin. 

“Welcome home.” 

“Hey.” Damen smiled. “How's my baby boy?” 

“Irritated. I think he's feeling a little sick today.” Laurent told him, pushing Théo's few strands of hair back as he slept, sucking on his pacifier. 

“Daddy, will you play with me?” Nicaise interrupted, pulling Damen’s arm to get his attention.

“Sure, son. But first let me talk to your father and Pallas, okay? Wait for me in your room and I'll be there in a minute.” 

“You promise?” Nicaise's expression was stern.

“Of course. I won't take long.” Damen smiled at him.

“All right.” Nicaise got up and rushed to his room. 

Damen watched him go before turning to Laurent and kissing him on the lips. Laurent smirked under the kiss. Damen kissed Théo's forehead.

“And how was _your_ day?” Damen asked.

“Except for the ten minutes before you walked through the door it was wonderful.” Laurent mocked.

“Want me to put Théo on his crib?” Damen asked. 

“No, go play with Nicaise. He really needs you today.” Laurent had a meaningful look on his eyes as he said it.

“I know. I'll go.” Damen planted another kiss to Laurent's lips and left, stopping to knock on Pallas’s room on the way to Nicaise’s.

Pallas sat on his bed, typing at the speed of light on his phone. Damen greeted him and he could see the sparkle of hope in Pallas’s eyes.

“Hi, dad.” Pallas rose and the face he made almost convinced Damen he was an angel fallen from the sky. Almost. “Can I please go out for a while?”

“I believe I heard your father say no. So no, you can’t.” 

“Ugh!” Pallas buffed and roughly sat back down. The puppy eyes gone. 

“Nice talking to you too, son.” Damen rolled his eyes and headed to Nicaise’s room to play with him.

  


\-------------

  


Later that night, Damen walked around the house checking for items they needed from the supermarket. This was usually Laurent's duty, but with Théo feeling bad all day there was no time for him to do so. Damen finished his tour in their bedroom.

Laurent focused on his work, his fingers moving smoothly through the keyboard. Damen checked the suite's bathroom and noticed they needed toothbrushes. He wrote it down. He walked up to the nightstand and checked it's drawer.

“Oh, have you payed the bills?” Laurent asked, not taking his eyes off the computer.

“Yeah, today. Water, electricity and cable, right?”

“Right. Thank you.” 

“Listen, we should talk about Pallas.” Damen said.

“What about him?” Laurent did not stop typing.

“I think he's having sex with Lazar.” 

“What makes you say that?” Laurent’s finger finally stopped and he turned to face Damen.

“I took his wallet to change some money and found condoms.” 

“...Well, at least he's using them.” Laurent shrugged.

“Laurent, he's sixteen!” 

“Damen, what do you expect us to do? He's a teenager. We can't _forbid_ him to have sex. We've oriented him and, apparently, it worked. We have to let him make his own decisions.” Laurent said, pushing his laptop away.

“But,” Damen sat down beside him. “Sixteen, Laurent.” 

“Damen, he's almost seventeen. And the way you say it it's almost as if _someone else_ in this very room have _not_ lost his virginity at fifteen years old.” Laurent's eyebrows rose as he rested his elbow on his knee and supported his chin with his hand. 

“Well, yeah, but...” Damen flushed. “I was precocious.” 

“And so is your child, apparently.” Laurent smirked. “Besides, better at sixteen with a head on his shoulders than at twenty with poor judgment.”

“...Do you think Nicaise will be like this too? And Théo! Oh, no, not Théo...” Damen sighed. “They are just so cute and innocent!”

“Of course they are, they are children!” Laurent laughed warmly. “Don’t you remember how Pallas was when he first got here?” 

The images of Pallas missing a tooth, swimming clumsily while wearing inflatable armbands came to mind. Damen smiled at that sweet memory. 

“And honestly, we better teach Nicaise well when the time comes because he’s going to break some hearts.” Laurent commented, leaning back on his pillows and taking a sip from the water on his nightstand. 

“Tell me about it.” The corner of Damen’s mouth rose. “Speaking of him, he seemed troubled today.”

“He realizes he looks different from his brothers and he's jealous of them. Specially of Théo.” Laurent sighed, knowing all too well what Damen was about to say.

“He does. Him being different, that's not gonna change but,” Damen hesitated, pulling himself to sit on Laurent’s side, facing him. “Do you think we're doing a good job? I always try to treat them the same, but sometimes I wonder if I don't.” 

“Damen, relax. You're a great father and we _do_ treat them the same. It's just,” Laurent inhaled deeply, taking a moment. He took Damen’s hand in his and proceeded. “Living in Akielos is complicated for Veretians.” 

“I know. I know it is.” Damen lowered his eyes.

“But there is nothing we can do besides keep living. Take some extra time to be with Nicaise, give him the love and attention he needs and that's all.” 

Damen sighed, nodded and they both were silent for a few moments; simply staring at the white sheets of their bed.

“Do you regret it? Coming here because of me.” Damen asked, brushing his thumb against the back of Laurent’s hand.

“Damen, I've lived in this country for seventeen years. If I had any regrets, you would be the first to know.” Laurent caressed Damen's cheek. “Now let me work.”

Damen gave Laurent’s hand a kiss before letting it go and lay beside him. He turned on the television and kept the volume as low as possible not to bother his hard-working husband. Damen was nearly falling asleep when he heard the news anchor announcing a meeting between the leaders of Akielos and Vere.  Laurent stopped typing and Damen took his husband’s hand once more, entwining their fingers. There had been a few meetings after the Opening of Borders, but it a new agreement regarding the shared land was never made. And every time there was a new meeting the memories of the silent conflict returned.

“It'll be all right.” Damen said.

Laurent nodded, but his fingers remained still over the keyboard. Damen took the liberty of pulling Laurent’s laptop to his own lap, ignoring his husband’s complaints. He put it aside, on the floor  beside their bed and  took his own cellphone, searching for an appropriate song. 

“Damen, please. I have to work.” Laurent said reaching for his laptop.

“You can. Later.” Damen said and pulled Laurent to the free space in front of their bed.

“It’s ten at night. When will ‘later’ be?” Laurent mocked.

“Later.” Damen chuckled and pulled him closer, wrapping Laurent’s arms around his own waist. 

Laurent rolled his eyes but allowed it. His hands roamed to Damen’s lower back and up, while his head rested on his husband’s chest. Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent’s torso, one hand sliding up to massage the thin hair of his nape.

They moved lazily, enjoying the slow movement. The sound of Damen’s heartbeats accompanying the rhythm of the song made Laurent’s body surrender slowly and take his mind off the tension. Damen did not need words. Simple gestures were enough to rid his husband of worries. 

  


\-------------

  


The next day started like any other. Damen turned off the alarm clock he kept under his pillow and sighed. He rubbed his eyes and rose, heading to the kitchen. He prepared breakfast and headed back up to knock on Pallas’s room. 

“Pallas, come on. Time to wake up.” 

As usual, there was no response. Damen headed to Nicaise’s room. He knocked on the door and entered the room, sitting on the bed. Nicaise lay sprawled on his stomach, drooling on his pillow. 

“Nicaise, come on. Time to wake up.” Damen said. 

Nicaise groaned and turned his back to Damen. With a roll of his eyes, Damen leaned over him, putting some of his weight on top of his son.

“Nicaaaise. Cooomeee ooon...” Damen sang in his awful singing voice. 

Nicaise laughed and hid himself under his Spider-man blanket. Damen pulled the covers off and shook him.

“Come on, get up. Time to go. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” Damen told him and rose, heading back to Pallas’s room.

This time, Damen opened the door after a knock, pushing Pallas to the side.

“Pallas, come on.” Damen clapped his hands loudly, opened the windows and pulled the covers, revealing his son. “Time to get up. Come on.” 

Pallas groaned loudly and sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“We’ll be waiting downstairs.” 

Damen said and left, heading back to the kitchen, accompanied by Nicaise. Pallas took another five minutes to come down and eat with them. Laurent came downstairs when they were about to leave. His eyes almost closed and holding Théodore in his arms.

“You’re up early.” Damen mocked. “Good morning.” 

Laurent simply nodded, acknowledging his husband’s statement. It was too early in the morning to reply and Théodore had fallen back to sleep right after a simple change of diaper. Damen kissed his cheek and headed upstairs to rush his sons into changing their clothes.

With the leader's meeting occurring mid-morning, Damen left in a hurry with his two eldest sons, a kiss on the youngest and another one from his sleepy husband. Arriving at the school, Pallas took Nicaise to his classroom and then headed to his own. His eyes met Lazar's from across the room and they held back their smirks.

Pallas's lunch break was spent hiding inside a bathroom stall, in the least frequented part of the school. It gave them enough illusion of privacy for them to lose their inhibitions.  After the break, they returned to the classroom. Pallas checked his phone and there were two missing calls from Laurent and a text. He opened the message which read  _Urgent! Get Nicaise and come home!_ . Pallas rose, his face pale as the teacher and other students stared at him.

“Pallas, sit down.” His teacher ordered.

Before Pallas could reply, Akielon soldiers entered the classroom as if they owned it. Two of them headed to Lazar and he noticed another pair standing outside, holding a Veretian student from a different class by the arm.

“You are now under arrest by the State of Akielos. Please follow us.” 

“What!?” Lazar asked and a gun was pointed at him.

“What are you doing!?” Pallas asked. “He hasn't done anything!”

“Sit down or we'll arrest you too for treason.” One soldier approached, forcefully pushing Pallas to sit back on his chair.

“Pallas, sit down and shut up!” Lazar shouted, his eyes were wide in fear as he left with the soldiers.

Pallas felt his heart shrink. He remained seated until the soldiers were gone. His muscles twitched and worked in his favor as he rose and rushed out of the classroom as soon as he could. His teacher called his name but he ignored it.

Reaching the yard that divided the school, Pallas saw Nicaise being taken by the arm by a soldier. Pallas rushed to them and held the soldier by the arm, which granted him a punch on the face and three other soldiers holding him back.

“Wait, please! That's my brother!” Pallas shouted.

The soldier holding Nicaise glanced at the two of them before letting out a breath of amusement.

“I highly doubt that.” 

“He is! And he has a Residence Card! Nicaise, show it to him!” Pallas told him, trying to get rid of the soldiers.

Nicaise pulled his arm from the soldier's grip and fumbled in his clothes, looking for the strap around his neck with his Residency Card at the end. He showed it to the soldier who laughed at them.

“Oh, that's a very pretty card.” He said in a mocking tone. “Catch up, kid. We're at war against Vere now. Veretians have no place in our country.”

“Pallas...” Nicaise tried to rush to Pallas’s side, but was held back by the soldier.

“Wha-But he's a child! He's my brother! You can't take him!” Pallas struggled, but he had no chance of getting himself free.

“Pallas!” Nicaise squirmed, while the soldier effortlessly took him away.

“Nicaise! Let me go! He's my brother! He's only eight, please! Nicaise!” 

Pallas saw Nicaise's terrified expression as he was shoved into a military truck before the men around him let him go. By the time he found himself free, his brother was gone, leaving Pallas alone on the ground.

  


\-------------

  


Around ten in the morning, Laurent took the list Damen had written the night before and went shopping. He put Théo on the baby carrier while pushing the shopping cart around. Checking the list he noticed it ended with a small diagonal message from Damen:  _Thank you for this. U R great! Love you! :)_ , followed by a poorly drawn heart. Laurent smiled softly in amusement and rolled his eyes. 

“Your father is a silly man.” He told Théo, who laughed at him from behind his pacifier.

Laurent finished shopping and headed to the cashier. It was easy to let the stares around him go unnoticed when he focused on the items on the shopping list. And yet, the cashier he  _had_ to interact with. He was used to it, of course, but it still felt frustrating and humiliating to be looked down as if he had just stolen his own son.

“Your Residence Card, please.” The cashier asked in a monotonous tone. Of course he had already noticed Laurent looking for it, but he would not lose his chance to further humiliate a Veretian.

“Yes, of course. Just a moment.” Laurent discreetly struggled with his bag, which he had accidentally trapped between the baby carrier and himself. “Here.”

Laurent handed the card over and, while watched by the judgmental eyes of those waiting in line, caressed his son's head. Théo had whined briefly, feeling his father's distress. Yet Laurent’s outward appearance showed none of it. He remained as elegant and calm as he payed for his groceries with his own credit card and took them to the coffee shop next door. He ignored a slur on the way.

Laurent ordered his coffee, placed his groceries on a table and returned to take his order. He took Théo from the baby carrier and sat him on the table, allowing him to distract himself with some toys Laurent had brought. He tried to focus on the television, hoping to ignore the stares from those around him. Now that Théo was out of the baby carrier his stunning blue eyes stood out more than ever.

“...war by the State of Vere. As a security matter, Veretians are being contained...” The news anchor said and Laurent felt his heart sink inside his chest.

The stares were now more intense and he had Théo in his arms before he realized it. He took his phone and tried to call Pallas. Thought it did not show in Laurent's expression, the never ending rings with no answer were unsettling. He send a text, hoping it would reach Pallas in time and rose, ready to head home.

His fingers had barely touched the groceries when soldiers entered. Akielons practically made way for them as they approached Laurent.

“Sir, let go of the child.” The soldier said, already grabbing Laurent's arm.

“No.” Laurent kept his composure. “He's my son. I have his documents in my bag.” 

“Sir, you are under arrest. You can't-” The soldier stopped when a second one appeared from behind Laurent and whispered something to his ear. “I understand this child is a half-breed.” 

“Yes, he is mixed, yes. But he was born in Akielos. And his father, my husband, is Akielon.” Laurent said. “Just let me hand him over to his father.” 

“Half-breeds are being kept in confinement as well, for safety precautions.” 

“'Safety'? He's a nine months old baby. What harm can he do?” 

“Sir, let go of the child. Now.”

“I will not. I will gladly give him away to his father. In person. I will not hand over my child.” Laurent tried to keep his hands from shaking. His mind started to think of ways he could prevent Théo to be taken from him, but nothing came to his mind. 

“Just let him keep the damn child!” An Akielon shouted. “They're all the same and going to the same place, right? Just get this trash out of here!” 

Laurent had never been so grateful for such an offense. The soldier pulled Laurent roughly by the arm to the inside of the military truck. He was thrown to the ground as if he was not holding an infant and the door behind him was shut. Inside, there were old, young, even children. All Veretians, except for the soldier that took their belongings. Nicaise was not one of them. Laurent let out a delusional sigh of relief. He understood this meant nothing, but not seeing his son inside one of those trucks made him glad.

Laurent sat on the bench inside and calmed Théo down. The truculence had made him cry and lose his pacifier. Laurent had to beg to get another one from the soldier, who only allowed so Théo would be quiet. It took him a little while, but eventually Théo was calm and Laurent looked up. There were stares again. This time, they all focused on Théo. His dark skin caused anger, disgust and even fear. Laurent kissed his son's cheek and caressed his head.

“He's mixed. There is Vere in him.” Laurent said before showing them Théo's eyes. 

Some of them let out a breath they had been holding. Others continued to frown, but less. Laurent thought it to be ridiculous. The soldiers, these people, all fearing and hating an innocent child. An infant that could not hurt them if he wished so. Laurent let out a breath and thought of Damen, arriving at their house to find two of his sons and his husband gone. He had no choice but to hope for the best. For Damen and his sons, more than himself.

  


\-------------

  


Damen returned to his desk after a meeting to find seventeen calls from Pallas. A bad feeling took over his heart as he called back.

“Dad!” Pallas picked up instantly.

“Pallas, what happened!?” 

“It's-It's Nicaise, dad! They took him! The military took Nicaise!” Pallas tone was desperate.

“Wha-The-What!?” Damen felt his head spin. “Why!? Where to!?” 

“I don't know! They are taking Veretians! They took Lazar too! They took them all! They said we're at war against Vere!”

Damen's heart seemed to have stopped. His emotions froze as he talked.

“Pallas, I wanna talk to your principal. I'll let you get out of school. Go home immediately.”

“O-Okay.” 

Damen could hear the sound of Pallas running on the other side of the line as he glanced at his co-worker Jord. He approached him silently and talked in whispers.

“Jord, get out of here.” 

“What?” Jord was smart. He had noticed Damen's affliction and knew something was wrong, so he whispered back. “Why?” 

“We're at war. They are taking Veretians. Hide, find shelter. And if you see the military, do not approach.” 

Jord nodded and left. No goodbyes or ceremony. Damen knew he had questions, he knew he wanted to know about Laurent, Nicaise, but he could not. By the time Jord had silently and imperceptibly left the building, Damen heard the principal call for him on the phone.

“Hello, this is Damianos. I'm Pallas's father. Please release him. He must come home.” 

“Yes, of course.” The principal agreed instantly. “He is free to go.”

“Thank you.” Damen waited for Pallas to say something, but the boy hung up. 

Damen rose and knocked on the CEO's door. He was allowed in and Damen did not need to say anything.

“Go. Find your husband.” The CEO replied from behind his desk. His dark skin was pale.

Damen did not waste a single moment. He had already taken his suitcase from his desk and rushed out. As soon as he stepped out of the building, he saw military trucks parking and soldiers taking Veretians here and there. He sighed in relief for having warned Jord, but did not dare to feel at ease.

A soldier stopped his car on the way out, but he was quickly dismissed after a short inspection that verified he was not harboring any Veretians inside his trunk. Damen rushed home to find its beautiful white exterior completely painted with slurs.  _Got what you deserve, Veretian scum!_ ,  _Half-breeds belong in the trash_ ,  _House of the degenerates_ ; those written words echoed in his head as he unlocked the door and headed inside.

The insides looked normal except for a few spots where there was broken glass from the windows. On the rocks used to break them, more offenses. Damen reacted by throwing one of the rocks outside, completely breaking what was left of his window. There was no one inside and Laurent would not pick up his phone. Damen understood what it meant. He sat on the couch, trying to come up with a course of action. Yet everything he could think of was Laurent walking around the kitchen, putting away their groceries while Théo babbled from his high-chair.

Damen placed his palm against his head and felt the cold touch of his wedding ring. The door was unlocked and Damen jumped on his seat, delusively hoping to see a golden head crossing it. Instead, dark curls made their way into the living room.

“They took him.” Pallas stood on the door, staring at Damen. It had not been a question.

Damen sighed, rubbing his own face.

“They did.” 

“But Théo-” 

“He's mixed.” 

“But he's just a baby!” Pallas shouted. 

“Don't you think I know this!?” Damen rose from the couch and Pallas lowered his head. “We'll find a way to get them back.”

“And our house?” Pallas asked.

“We'll clean it up. Get the buckets.”

Pallas closed the door and followed Damen.

“What happened to your face?” Damen finally noticed and touched Pallas's cheek. 

“Nothing, don't worry about it. The soldier's hit me when I tried to get Nicaise back.”

Damen took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He gently pushed Pallas against the kitchen stool, making him sit, took a bag of ice from the freezer and placed against his son's cheek. Pallas allowed it, keeping his head down. Damen kissed his head and sat on the stool in front of him to keep his son company. 

  


\-------------

  


It took a while to reach their destination. When they did, the truck stopped suddenly. Laurent and the others were forcefully taken out of it and pushed into a fenced path leading to a small and equally fenced square in front of the metallic door of a building. It was like entering a prison. Laurent walked silently and did not resist. One by one they were taken into the building to never return. 

When Laurent’s turn came, he had to force his body to restrain itself as he walked into the building. He passed through a bars that closed behind him with a loud noise. Inside the room there were two soldiers and a pile of beige cloth over a large table.

“Strip.” The soldier standing on the corner between the bars and wall ordered.

Laurent squeezed Théo closer to himself.

“Relax. There's new clothes.” The second soldier told him as he reached behind himself and threw the new clothes to Laurent, who could not catch it.

Both soldiers watched Laurent with not a hint of amusement or interest. Laurent crouched and checked the pants. He opened his own with a single hand and changed. It was straining, but he refused to hand Théo over when soldier asked for him.

The soldier shrugged and returned to his place on the corner. Laurent sat down and placed Théo on his lap to change his shirt. The soldier threw him another set of clothes and he changed Théo. Much like his own, the clothes were a little loose.

“He needs a new diaper.” Laurent said. 

“We don't have any.” 

Laurent felt enraged, but refused to show it. He rose and waited for new orders. They came in the form of an opening of yet another door, leading elsewhere.

“You do realize you're not keeping him, right?” The soldier said, right before he pushed Laurent into the next room and slammed the door behind him. 

There was a small line beside a table with a computer and a woman working on it. Soldiers surrounded the room. Laurent waited his turn and the woman did not take her eyes from the computer as he approached. She asked for his name and he told her, even thought he could clearly see his Residency Card right next to her. She typed his name on the computer, checking the Residency Card and muttering some complaint under her breath. Laurent assumed she did not know how to write his name, like most Akielons. She looked at him and the screen several times, then proceeded to type.

“And the child?” 

“...Théodore.” Laurent replied. “He's mine.” 

The woman disregarded his last statement and repeated the process, including copying the name from the Residency Card into the computer. She mumbled yet another complaint about the stress mark, deciding to ignore it and write Théodore’s name without it. Once more, it was not the first time Laurent had seen it happen.

“He's going to the half-breed area. You're in the Veretian.” The woman said, more to the soldiers behind her than to Laurent.

“No!” Laurent took a step back as they approached.

“Sir, let go of the child.” One soldier said, pointing a gun to his head.

“No. He's my son. He's an infant! He stays with me.” Laurent felt himself shaking and heard Théo crying. 

“Sir, this is your last warning. Let go of the child.” 

“No!” Laurent rose his voice, holding Théo closer to himself and using his arms to protect him.

“What is going on here?” 

An Akielon man entered the room. Laurent saw a thin strand of hope as he recognized him as Nikandros, Damen's best friend. Nikandros showed no sign of recognizing him, though.

“Sir. This Veretian carries a half-breed child and refuses to surrender him, sir.” The soldier pointing his gun at Laurent replied without moving a muscle, or taking his eyes off him.

Nikandros's eyes roamed Laurent from head to toe. Laurent judged best to keep their relationship a secret. Nikandros glanced at him with a stern expression.

“Sir, hand over the child.” 

Laurent widened his eyes and felt the thin strand tear. Théo cried even louder, making the environment even tenser. Laurent rocked him in an attempt to calm him down, but Théo could feel Laurent's own despair.

“Get out of the line and sit over there. You have fifteen minutes to say your goodbyes. After that, he's going to the half-breed area. And find this child a diaper. He stinks.” Nikandros said with utter disgust. 

Laurent quickly obeyed, focusing on staying with Théo for less than half an hour. Nikandros waited by his side, his posture perfect and worthy of a soldier. The line started moving normally and Laurent received a single diaper and one wet wipe from a soldier. Despite knowing it to be less then enough, he was glad it was not a tissue or something that would not do the job properly.

“You'll need to hand him over.” Nikandros whispered, barely moving his lips to do so.

Laurent did not answer, changing Théo’s diaper.

“I'll make sure he's taken care of. You're not going to die here.” 

Laurent listened intently, but did not reply.

“You're all hostages. If Vere acts up, we kill you. If we do, Veretians across the border do the same to captured Akielons. It's a game.”

“'A game'. Played with the lives of innocent children.” 

“I'm not happy either. That's why I'll help you, if you work with me.” 

Laurent looked down at Théo, now clean and changed. He used his last painful minutes holding his son in his arms to play with him. When the soldier came, Laurent showered Théodore with kisses before handing him over with shaking hands. 

“He can't be alone. Give him to that scrawny half-breed, with the blond curls. He seems able to keep a child alive.” Nikandros said in the most aloof of tones and a flimsy wave of his hand. 

The soldier nodded and left. Théo cried even more and Laurent's muscles struggled not to move. Laurent did not dare to turn around to watch them leave, yet Théo's cries made his heart shatter like thin glass.

Nikandros left without a word and another soldier pushed Laurent into yet another room. Laurent's legs barely held his weight as he slowly walked in. In less than twelve hours he had lost three sons and a husband. Laurent’s heart was shredded, but he refused to give his enemies such a pleasure and show any signs of it. He was given a minuscule, hard pillow and a thin blanket and was addressed to a bunk bed. He forced himself to keep his head high, yet he did not pay much attention to his surroundings. 

His mind was still with Théodore when a familiar voice called for him. Laurent quickly looked around to find Nicaise, standing in front of a Veretian woman. Laurent's legs gave in and he knelt, dropping the pillow and blanket to the ground. Nicaise ran towards him and gave him a strong hug. Laurent squeezed him tight, not daring to allow any tears to roll out of his eyes. 

“Daddy!” Nicaise said it again, squeezing Laurent's neck.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” Laurent asked, holding Nicaise tightly, close to his body.

“No. I'm okay. Where is daddy Damen? And Pallas? And Théo?” 

Nicaise asked, his big blue eyes searching Laurent's. With a sigh, Laurent caressed Nicaise's cheek and kissed it.

“They’re all right. Everything will be all right.”

Laurent reassured him in a hopeful wish and on his nape, right below his hairline he imagined the reassuring warmth of Damen’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoy it!  
> I would like to update this story AT LEAST once a month, so you can expect the next chapter by March 20th! (Might be faster.)
> 
> PS: For those having a hard time visualizing the bathroom, it would be something like [this](http://www.pennyroach.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/bathroom-fancy-small-bathroom-remodel-with-classy-round-bathtub-and-glass-shower-enclosure-and-lovely-peach-ceramic-wall-and-floor-tiles-and-white-framed-glass-doors-34-brilliant-ideas-of-small-bathro.jpg), except everything is bigger. 
> 
> (PPS: For those who read "The Heir", I hope you don't mind the minor appearance of a certain character. Hahaha! I needed him for his aesthetic and could not bring myself to create a "fake", so I brought him back to life. I hope you don't mind! (;ω;) )


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Thank you very much for all your comments, kudos, subscriptions, etc. I'm truly grateful! (;ω;)  
> It's a little early, but I think I might be able to update this fic every two weeks instead of monthly! I will do my best to keep this schedule!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Damen had signed up for the exchange student program as soon as the borders were open. Despite his father’s and his friends’ disapproval, he was determined to finally put some order in his life and challenge himself in another country, even if it was Vere.

Damen had never imagined, though, how difficult it would be to adapt. A two week program to learn Veretian in order to be able to live in the country had proven itself to be completely useless for language learning. Damen had learned a lot about all the crimes he should not commit while staying in Veretian territory, though. That was made perfectly clear for him from the very first day.

Not only that, Veretians were not the most receptive of people, much less towards Akielons. In their eyes, the borders had barely opened and the barbarians were already in. And if the physical disparity was not enough to set him apart from the others, his size was. No one wants a "giant, brutish animal" roaming their vicinity.

Damen made sure to ignore the stares and frowns as he headed towards the headmaster's office. He knocked on the door and walked in as he was told to do so. The headmaster was sitting on his chair, behind a large desk. There were two more chairs in front of it, one in which sat someone with a magnificent golden head. The strands were thin, delicate and the color was one Damen had never seen before.

“You must be Damianos.” The headmaster said, smiling much against his will.

“Yes.” Damen replied from hearing his name. “Sorry I were late. Hm-I were lost.”

“'Was'.” A tired voice came from the chair.

“Damianos, this is Laurent. He will be your Veretian Language tutor during your stay.”

Damen lost most words, but he understood “tutor” and “Veretian Language”. From that he assumed this person would be teaching him Veretian. Damen approached and glanced at his new tutor. His breath-taking blue eyes worked like jewelry to adorn his pale face. His skin was smooth and his hair fell decoratively over his forehead. Damen forgot how to breathe for a second.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Damianos.” Damen extended his hand.

“I’m Laurent.” Laurent glanced at it with aloofness and shook once, letting go almost immediately. His touch was light and almost imperceptible.

Damen understood, then, that _Laurent_ was a name, not a word.

“Well, now that you have been properly introduced, please proceed with your studies. You may go.”

Damen furrowed his brows, trying to understand. The principal seemed to be purposely using difficult words just so he could leave Damen at a loss. Laurent rose and Damen followed him. As they left the room, Damen opened the notebook in his hand and searched for a pen.

“All right, we'll meet at five, in the library.” Laurent spoke slowly, but naturally.

“Okay. Five on afternoon. Library.” Damen nodded. “Huh, excuse me, what the principal say,” Damen started.

“He told us we could leave.” Laurent said.

“Yes, but,” Damen tried to hand the notebook and pen over to Laurent. “Write? Please?”

Taken aback, Laurent glanced at the notebook and Damen several times before taking it. He wrote the sentence with perfect calligraphy and ridiculously straight arrows under every word leading to it's translation. The verbs had their inflections detailed. Damen had never been so grateful for a tutor in his life.

“Thank you!” Damen smiled.

Laurent stared into his eyes for a moment, then looked down to his feet before returning to Damen’s eyes. In truth, Damen felt slightly uncomfortable from the full body scan Laurent performed on him, but he tried not to show it.

“You’re welcome.”

And with that sentence whispered, Laurent turned on his heels and went away. Damen made sure to watch him go for as long as he could.

 

\-------------

 

Damen and Laurent met at five, as it had been scheduled. Actually, five thirty. Damen was lost again and wondered why Veretians spent so much on fancy architecture and so little on indication signs. As he walked in, he showed the librarian both his Student Card and Residency Card and was allowed further inside.

Laurent waited for him on a table close to the shelves, by the end of the room. Damen thought to himself how beautiful Laurent looked bathed in sunset light as he approached. Laurent put his book down and Damen noticed it to be Akielon.

“You like Isagoras?” Damen let it slip out, in his own language.

“You _know_ Isagoras?” Laurent replied in a thick accent. Damen found it cute.

“Yes! He wrote incredible poems during the eighteenth century. The descriptions he used to narrate the battles make everything so realistic and-...What?” Damen asked as he noticed the smirk across Laurent's lips.

“You're much more eloquent in your own language.” Laurent sounded amused as he supported his head on his delicate fingers.

“Well, it helps when I've had years of practice and not two weeks.” The corner of Damen's mouth rose and he sat down.

“Two weeks? That's all they gave you to learn Veretian?” Laurent rose an eyebrow.

“Yup.”

“Wow. Then I must say, you're quite eloquent in Veretian as well.” Laurent adjusted his position and placed his arms on the table, using them as support to lean forward. “Well, shall we start?”

“Yes, please.” Damen took out his notebook and pens.

“Put those away. You're not learning to write in Veretian. You can do that on your own. We'll be talking.” Laurent took Damen's notebook and wrote down a number, followed by periods of time. “This is my phone number and class schedule. During these times, _do not_ call me. Other than that, feel free to do so.”

“Okay.” Damen nodded. “Thank you.”

“Very well.” Laurent said his last sentence in Akielon before switching to Veretian. “What do you study?”

“Huh-Veretian.” Damen replied.

Laurent denied with his head.

“What do you study in college?”

“Oh. Ah-Master Degree, Administration.” Damen took a moment to remember the word. He had memorized it when he learned how to introduce himself in Veretian.

“So you're getting a Master's Degree in Administration. I see. Why?” Laurent kept his piercing blue eyes on Damen's, which made it ten times harder to think.

“My-huh-my father have company. I have company-huh-after.” Damen spoke slowly and his accent was even stronger than Laurent’s.

“Your father _has_ a company and you'll inherit it. Inherit.” Laurent said the last word in Akielon.

“Yes. Inherit.” Damen slowly repeated, in Veretian.

“Very good.” Laurent admitted and pretended not to notice the proud expression on Damen's face. “Now, tell me about your country.”

 

\-------------

 

When Laurent accepted to become tutor for the Akielon exchange student he expected to be baby sitting an uninterested brute. Speaking his own language all the time and forcing himself to create subjects to discuss did not appeal to him as much as the money he received for it did.

Laurent did not expect, however, to meet a wonderful, kind and, above all, _gorgeous_ man with similar interests and a remarkable aptitude for language learning. Teaching Damen had become more than a boring task at the end of each day. It had become a pleasure. Laurent would take pictures of daily things he considered interesting in order to show and explain them to Damen. And hearing Damen explain about Akielos's customs had become something Laurent looked forward to.

But Laurent had learned long ago that pleasure did not come free of burden. Becoming Damen's tutor had made Laurent the campus main target for mockery. Staying for hours on end talking to the Akielon barbarian inside the library had generated all sorts of rumors. Laurent, of course, made sure to ignore them all and continued to meet with Damen.

“Oh, if it isn't Laurent. When is your baby-sitting duty over?” One of Laurent's classmates mocked.

Laurent ignored him and quietly sat down to eat his lunch.

“Baby-sitting? More like...” His other classmate formed an 'o' with his lips and pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, matching the motion of his hand in front of his face.

“No way. I mean, in a library? Wow, this Akielons are really something.”

Laurent continued to eat his lunch, ignoring the pathetic attempt of bullying. It was unbelievable to him. This was college. The last year of it, nonetheless, and people were still acting as if they were in high-school.

“So, tell us, what's the appeal?” The first colleague continued. “They're ugly as fuck.”

“Oh, yes, and you’re the epitome of male beauty, aren’t you?” Laurent let out a breath of amusement.

Even his classmate’s friend let out a snort at that.

“At least I’m not a whore who loves sucking Akielon cock.”

“Oh, you should try it, then. You're clearly in need of it.”

“You disgust me.”

“I’m glad the feeling is mutual.” Laurent rose and left. No one else said a word as he roughly threw the tray into the return bin and left the cafeteria. He had completely lost his appetite.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent met Damen in the library that day as usual. Before they started their conversations, Damen would bring videos of their lessons, so that Laurent could help him actually understand what he was studying; since none of the teachers seemed to care there was a student who had not been prepared enough to understand a single word they said. Damen had his arms on the table and his hands together.

“Hello.” Laurent said and sat down.

“Hey.” Damen said, in Akielon.

“What's this? Giving up on Veretian already?” Laurent mocked.

“Laurent, people have been talking about you.”

“I know.”

“Don't you care?” Damen asked, his tone louder. “This isn't fair! Perhaps you should stop-”

“Damen, you know why these people are bullying me?” Laurent asked, placing his bag on the table and taking out his phone. “It's because you were born in a different country. This is nothing but a bunch of pathetic cowards who actually believe your birthplace and the color of your skin affect your personality. So no, I don't care what close-minded pieces of shit think.”

Damen could not help but smile.

“Besides, what's the offense on me here? That I'm voluntarily sucking your cock between bookshelves? I fail to see how that would be degrading.”

“Really?” Damen's tone was much too joyful, his smile wide and, in truth, a little bit conceited.

Laurent found amusing how Damen could be proud of such simple matters. The man was easy to please, like a oversized puppy.

“Yes. Now, let's watch those classes.”

Damen took out his phone and gave one of his earbuds to Laurent. They sat close to each other and listened. Damen's eyes focused too much on Laurent's eyelashes and too little on the class. Laurent talked and made notes, but Damen did not hear them.

Laurent's hand rested between them on the bench and Damen gathered all his courage to simply touch it. Fingers met fingers, and that was it. Laurent stopped talking mid-sentence and Damen noticed his tension. For a moment, Damen thought Laurent would remove his hand, but he did not. Instead, Laurent briefly moved his fingers in some sort of minimal caress. It was like that brave, proud Laurent had been replaced by an innocent, vulnerable one.

Damen dared to reciprocate, his fingers subtlety caressing Laurent's. Realizing Laurent was allowing his touches, Damen slowly slipped his hand on top of Laurent's to hold it. Laurent let out a breath he had been holding and finally rose hid head, his eyes dark and his throat exposed. Damen wanted to lean in so badly, but he feared doing so. He glanced around once and saw one or two Veretians seeming almost offended by their proximity. His eyes turned back to Laurent as he felt lean fingers crawling between his. A request to go on. Damen did.

Their lips touched once, twice, before Damen licked Laurent's lips. Willingly but tense, Laurent opened them and let Damen's tongue in. Their kiss was long and sweet. Damen felt he could spend his life on it. He placed his hand on Laurent's nape and felt the tip of Laurent's fingers on his cheek.

Their lack of oxygen forced them apart, but they were still close enough to feel each other's breaths. Laurent's lips touched Damen's again before backing away completely.

“Well, that will give people something to talk about.” Laurent mocked, breaking the silence.

“I'll be there for you.” Damen squeezed Laurent's hand.

“It's not me I'm worried about.” Laurent said and let his fingers crawl into Damen's hair.

Damen glanced around and noticed one of the students stared fiercely at them. The student put his phone away and rose, granting Damen a glare before leaving the library.

“Don't worry.” Laurent kissed Damen's cheek to call his attention. “We'll be fine.”

 

\-------------

 

Laurent was glad Damen was no longer the focus of the insults. Of course he was still part of it, but Laurent very much preferred to see _Akielos' whore_ on the door of his room than seeing something offending Damen. There was also a printed picture of their kiss in the library attached to the door, with many insults towards them both written on it.

As he tore the picture off, Laurent noticed the door to his room had been breached and found its insides completely thrown apart. The walls had _Legs are not borders! Keep them closed!_ written on them. Laurent rolled his eyes. He wondered why people seemed to mind his sex life so much.

Laurent showed the headmaster the damage, foolishly hoping actions would be taken. He knew they would not when the headmaster said:

“This is truly a shame. Veretians should not go through this. Though I must say, Laurent, we hired you to teach him our language, not to lay with him.”

“Tell me, headmaster, do we have cameras inside the rooms?” Laurent kept his eyes on the damaged wall and his arms crossed.

“Unfortunately no, so I don't believe it'll be easy to find the culprits.” The headmaster said, though there was not a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice.

“Oh, no, that's not it. I was just wondering if there were any because everyone seems quite sure that I have fucked Damianos. I just thought Veretians, specially such influential people such as yourself, would have proof before spreading rumors.”

The headmaster forced a fake smile and nodded.

“Take care, Laurent.” He said and left.

Laurent started cleaning up his room by himself. Damen showed up later to help and insisted the door was left open. He did not wish to give people any more reasons to talk. Laurent did not mind though. Having Damen as his lover would never be something to be ashamed of. In fact, for quite a while Laurent had started thinking about the future of their relationship. About living with Damen, introducing him to his brother, perhaps sharing meals in a house of their own.

“What are you thinking about?” Damen said from the top of Laurent's desk, where he had been kneeling to scrub the walls. Though Vere was usually cold, the most recent warm weather and Damen’s high propensity to heat – and to getting naked at any given chance - had made him remove his shirt to work.

“About how hot you look scrubbing my wall.” Laurent said, bringing him a new bucket of water and soap, placing it beside Damen on the desk.

Damen laughed.

“You really think so? Or is this another one of your teasings?” Damen asked in a seductive tone.

Laurent flushed, taken aback by the sudden seriousness. He dipped the sponge onto the water and climbed onto the desk. He started scrubbing before whispering:

“I do.”

Damen had such a foolishly proud smile that made Laurent throw his sponge at his face. Damen skilfully avoided it and squeezed the dirty water from his own sponge onto Laurent's perfect golden hair, tainting it gray. Laurent laughed and pushed him away. Damen took Laurent’s arm and pulled him closer for a kiss. It tasted of ink and water. Damen backed away and pushed Laurent's hair behind his ear. Both of them leaned against the wall, eyes meeting and thoughts matching. Eight months had already passed. Damen would soon be leaving, never to return. Without a single word, their fingers entwined and they sat closer to each other.

“I promise I'll come back.” Damen said.

“I'll wait.” Laurent said and let his head fall on Damen's shoulder. “Meanwhile,”

Laurent touched Damen’s chest, pushing him back with little strength. Still confused, Damen leaned back until he was resting on his elbows. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening, but Laurent kissed him, straddling his waist.

“H-Hang on, Laurent-!” Damen was finally able to say when Laurent moved to kiss his neck.

“Yes?” Laurent’s tone was seductive and right by Damen’s ear.

“I-I-We-Huh-” Damen tried to focus. “The door.”

“Well, they love to talk about our sex life. Why not give them a little show?” Laurent mocked.

“Laurent!” Damen whined, finally returning to his senses.

“Fine.” Laurent rose and headed towards the door.

One of his bullies was conveniently passing through the hallway, just in time to see Laurent removing the sock from his foot and placing it on the doorknob. There was no need for one, of course, since the rooms were individual, but Laurent would not one to miss an opportunity. With a conceited smile and a little wave, Laurent closed the door, watching his classmate nearly foaming from his mouth in rage. He turned the lock as roughly as possible so it could be heard from the outside.

Laurent turned to find Damen standing, staring at his bed. He approached, touching Damen’s chest and turning him towards himself.

“Laurent,” Damen started.

“Don't talk.” Laurent wrapped his arms around Damen's neck and pulled him closer. “Touch me.”

Damen might have given the situation a second thought it that last sentence had not been whispered into his ear. If when his hands reached Laurent's rear, Laurent had not made a sound that went straight to Damen's cock.

Everything happened fast and intensely. Hands, limbs, lips touching each other constantly; lewd sounds and moans echoing softly through the walls; two becoming one through a meeting of bodies. When they were done, Damen rested over Laurent, both panting in exhaustion.

“Never thought I'd repeat something my shitty classmates said but,” Laurent started, fingers massaging Damen’s scalp. “Akielons are _really_ something.”

Damen laughed, lips roaming on Laurent’s chest as he planted soft kisses.

“If that's the case, so are Veretians.” Damen said and lifted himself up on his elbows. “Did I hurt you!?”

Damen asked, pushing himself up with one arm, sitting on his feet. Laurent leaned on his own elbows for support.

“What?”

“Your skin.” Damen said, touching the red marks his fingers had left on Laurent's body. "Are you okay?"

“Yes!” Laurent laughed. “This is just how it goes. The lighter the skin, the easier it bruises.”

“Really?” Damen let out a breath of amusement. “Mine doesn’t bruise at all. I mean, not from _this_.”

Laurent touched Damen's bicep, where he had grabbed firmly for quite some time, but there was not a single hint of it.

“It really doesn't bruise.”

“Yours does, though.”

Damen replied in the same fascinated tone Laurent had used. Their touched were less intense now. Curious, appreciative. From the beginning Vere and Akielos had kept their borders completely closed. There had never been a time of peace, so there was never a time in which Veretians and Akielos had shared such intimacy like Laurent and Damen had done. Brown and white bodies had never entwined as theirs had and the boldness of their actions reached their cheeks. Laurent's could be easily seen. Damen's could not.

“It's very beautiful.” Laurent told him. “It looks like-”

Laurent flushed harder, struggling with words. Damen waited, eyebrows risen in curiosity.

“...Cinnamon.” Laurent admitted in a whisper.

“Cinnamon?” Damen laughed warmly.

“Stop that! It does!” Laurent hid his face with his hands to hold back a laugh.

“Well, yours is beautiful too. Like the clouds in the sky.” Damen chuckled.

“What? It's not _that_ white!” Laurent protested, with a smile on his face.

“Yes, it is! Look at it!” Damen said, pulling Laurent's wrist to show it to him. “I can see your veins!”

“It just looks whiter because of your skin!”

“Hey, don't blame me for your cloud-like skin.” Damen dropped Laurent's arm against the sheets and lay on his back by his side.

Laurent reached for Damen's hand and stared at their entwined fingers, admiring the contrast. It looked so wonderful it made Laurent’s heart beat faster. He kissed the back of Damen's hand and lay his head on Damen's arm, using it as a pillow.

“I,” Laurent started. “I would like to introduce you to my brother.”

Damen felt a shiver up his spine. He understood how much Laurent loved his brother and meeting him was important to Laurent. Which meant it was important to Damen as well.

“I'd be honored.” Damen said, smiling kindly. It earned him a kiss on the cheek.

 

\-------------

 

It was a little less than three months before Damen’s return to his country that he finally managed to meet Laurent's brother. Auguste lived on the countryside, in the small town of Aquitart, where they both had been born and raised. So the trips to Arles would be long and expensive. In the end, due to his work, he almost did not come to visit and Laurent was the one traveling to Aquitart during the holidays or vacations. This year would be different, though.

Laurent talked about his brother several times and every time he did his eyes would shine bright and his lips would form an honest smile. It was a rare sight, which made Auguste’s opinion towards Damen much more significant. Damen was determined to please him.

There was a knock on his door and Damen, who had been lost in thought, jumped. He opened it to find Laurent standing there, playing with his fingers and looking up at the ceiling. Laurent wore a thin scarf and a dark blazer, which Damen thought matched his style very well.

“Hey.” Damen said.

“Hi. Are you ready to go?” Laurent asked.

“Yeah, let's go.” Damen picked up his leather jacket, put it on and locked his door.

As they were leaving, Laurent discreetly touched Damen's hand, entwining their fingers. Damen glanced at their joint hands and flushed. It was the first time they had willingly displayed affection in public and it felt amazing. Pride and audacity mixed into the simple gesture of holding hands.

They arrived at the restaurant and it went almost completely silent. Due to his size, Damen stood out even in Akielos, but in Vere he made entire rooms of people turn in his direction. Most of the glances turned into frowns, but at this point Damen did not care anymore. Laurent held his hand Damen wanted nothing more than to show everyone.

Laurent picked a table that could be seen from the door and they sat in front of each other. His blue eyes glanced up whenever he heard the bell above the door rung and, after a few minutes of chatting, his eyes finally did not move back to Damen. They shone and Laurent held back a smile.

Damen turned and saw Auguste walking in, waving at them. Much like his brother, Auguste had blue eyes and a charmingly golden head. Except Auguste's hair reached the middle of his back, swaying gracefully as he moved. Damen was entranced by it. Auguste was also much taller and stronger than Laurent, though his body type did not bare many similarities to Damen's. Laurent rose and gave his brother a hug.

“Baby brother! It's been so long!” Auguste said, squeezing Laurent into his arms.

“Hi, Auguste.”

Laurent hid his face in Auguste's chest and Damen smiled. The sweet gesture made Laurent look like a young child finding comfort in the arms of his protector.

“This is Damianos.” Laurent had a gentle flush on his cheeks as he gestured towards Damen.

“Oh, hello!” Auguste turned and Damen would never admit his heart beat one or two extra beats from seeing that smile. “Damn, you're taller than me!”

“Huh-Thank you.” Damen smiled. “It's very nice to meet you.”

“Very nice to meet you too! Are you taking good care of my baby brother?” Auguste joked.

“I hope so.” Damen said and glanced at Laurent, who was sitting down.

Auguste took the liberty of sitting beside Damen and taking the menu. He placed it between them both and asked Damen for permission before turning each page. Damen glanced at Laurent and smiled softly. The corner of Laurent's mouth rose in satisfaction from seeing Damen's approval. Auguste was nice. Perhaps a little too overexcited about the simple matters, making him seem somewhat strange, but overall a kind and fun man. And definitely a truly straight forward one.

“I gotta tell you, your Veretian is really good. Specially for someone who has been learning it for less than a year!” Auguste told Damen while eating some of the shrimps they shared, nodding to himself.

“Thank you. Laurent has helped me a lot.” Damen admitted, glancing at his boyfriend.

“Well, you know what they say: The best way to learn a language is in bed.” Auguste mocked.

Damen chocked on his drink and flushed so hard it could be seen clearly. Auguste laughed at his own joke and Laurent hid behind his menu to laugh. Auguste tapped Damen on the back, but did not seem to realize he was the cause of the chocking.

“Careful there. If you die while meeting me I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Shall we order some more food?” Laurent said, clearly having the time of his life, but deciding on being merciful.

 

\-------------

 

By the end of the night Laurent was watching his slightly drunk boyfriend tell his very drunk brother about how he _did_ need to use sunscreen despite his darker skin tone. Auguste was shocked. Laurent also noticed – though he pretended not to – how Damen’s eyes accompanied Auguste’s hair like a moth following the light. Laurent found it amusing.

Damen, on the other hand, was glad to see someone genuinely interested in him instead of simply despising it. Not only that, he and Laurent had a very similar discussions regarding skin tones a few months prior, so he had all the answers at the tip of his tongue. Which was good for his drunk brain.

After many jokes, many Akielon and Veretian dirty words exchanged and a lot of unnecessary laughter, they decided to call it a night. Damen and Laurent put Auguste in a cab and returned to the dorms. Reaching Damen's door, Laurent took the liberty of inviting himself inside with a kiss. Damen closed the door with his foot and almost fell over him. Luckily, Laurent had been strong enough to push his boyfriend back up.

“Sorry. A little tipsy.” Damen laughed.

“I can see that.” Laurent mocked. “Come, let's put you to bed.”

“Your brother is very nice. I like him.” Damen said, being helped to lay on the bed.

“I knew you'd say that. I knew you'd be friends.” Laurent said with a smile. “Now, stay there.”

Laurent ordered, laying Damen on the bed and getting up to change. Damen held his arm, pulling him back. Damen had a soft smile as he caressed Laurent’s hand and received a kiss in return.

“Sleep.” Laurent said and removed his clothes.

Damen watched him for a moment, clapping and letting out soft “woohoo”s. Laurent rolled his eyes and made sure to show Damen how pretty his middle finger was. Damen laughed at that and removed his own clothes, keeping nothing but his underwear. In Akielos - as he had told Laurent a few months back - he would have removed the underwear as well. Laurent, who had not left any clothes in Damen's room, wore underwear and one of Damen's shirts. Unlike his exhibitionist of a lover, he did not care for sleeping nude.

“You know, I wanna marry you someday.” Damen said when Laurent cuddled him.

“What if I don't want to?” Laurent joked through the loud beating of his heart.

“Don't care. Gonna put a ring on your finger and marry you anyway.” Damen laughed and Laurent did so too. “...But will you? ...Marry me someday?”

“Try proposing to me when you're not drunk and naked and I might consider it.”

Laurent smirked and Damen smiled warmly, wrapping his arms around him. Unlike Damen, who slept in no time, Laurent was left wide awake, admiring his boyfriend's features. His heart beat at an alarming rate from imagining himself spending the rest of his life sleeping with the heavy and comfortable weight of Damen resting over him. His fingers crawled into Damen's hair and he whispered one last confession before falling asleep.

“I love you.”

 

\-------------

 

Damen's loud and painful cry pulled Laurent from his sleep. Laurent's eyes shot open to find Damen's upper body hovering over his own, while Damen held himself up by his shaking arms. Laurent saw the shadows of two people running out of the room before he noticed Damen's face contorted in pain. Drops fell from the sides of Damen’s body, which had protected Laurent from whatever it was that made thin smoke come out of his back.

“Damen, what happened!?” Laurent sat up, allowing Damen to fall over him.

“My back.” Damen said in Akielon between rough breaths. “My back.”

Laurent supported Damen's weight with his body pressed against the headboard. Looking down at Damen's back, Laurent noticed there were blisters and the skin was abnormally red. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and called an ambulance immediately.

Following the emergency attendant's orders, Laurent helped Damen into the bathroom and gently poured cold water down his back. It looked much worse than Laurent had previously thought. When the paramedics arrived, they treated Damen's wounds superficially and lay him on his stomach to be taken to the hospital on a stretcher.

“Wait.” One of the paramedics said and placed a blanket over Damen's waist, hiding his legs before they left.  
Laurent had put on his own pants as they worked and accompanied them into the ambulance. The whole way to the parking lot there were many watchers, but not a single word was spoken. Some were clearly satisfied, others were against it and some were left in shock, unable to take sides. However it was, they wanted no involvement.

Laurent got into the ambulance and sat beside the paramedic. The silence was painful, since the reason Damen got injured was clear. Yet no one dared to say it out loud. Laurent held Damen's hand and caressed his head.

“You'll be fine. Hang in there. You're strong.” Laurent whispered in Akielon, not knowing if Damen was conscious enough to hear it.

“You speak his language?” The paramedic asked.

“Yes. I'm graduating in it.” Laurent said.

“Akielon, right?”

“Yes.”

"He's lucky the assholes who did this probably heated the water relatively far. It might scar, but he'll probably recover.”

Laurent nodded, and caressed Damen's head.

“This isn't right. Our countries were at war, not us.” The paramedic continued, seeming honestly frustrated. “This was supposed to be a time of peace. Even if they dislike Akielons, doing something like this… Anyway, I hope everything works out for you both.”

“Thank you.” Laurent thanked him and they were silent once more.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent spend the next three weeks skipping his own classes to take Damen's. With someone inside the university having given the exchange student second degree burns, not even the uncaring headmaster dared to object. Laurent would lose the semester due to his absences, or course, but Damen would not and that was all it mattered.

Laurent would record the classes everyday to show Damen later. When he entered the classrooms, his head was high and his expression cold. Whenever he entered any room, silence prevailed and the slightest of breaths could be heard. Laurent liked it. Laurent wanted all of them to be ashamed, to feel the guilt of having scarred a man's back. Laurent had never been so enraged in his entire life and, whenever he saw one of his classmates or anyone else that might have been responsible he would come up with a new plan. A way to humiliate whoever it was so much they would never be able to show their faces around anymore. Unfortunately, the culprits were never found.

After class, Laurent would always head straight to the hospital, where Damen would be sitting on the bed, usually reading or studying. Laurent on the chair by the side of the bed and helped him with the new lessons.

“Laurent.” Damen interrupted him.

“Yes?” Laurent rose his head to face him.

“Why are you doing this? You should be focusing on your graduation thesis, on your future. I can repeat my semester back in Akielos.”

“I will not let you fail the semester because some assholes decided it would be nice to throw boiling water on your back.” Laurent said. “Besides,”

Laurent rose, taking Damen's hand in his. He pulled a simple, thin and obviously inexpensive ring from his pocket and placed it on Damen's finger. While Damen stared at it in confusion, Laurent placed a second ring, exactly like the first, in Damen's palm.

“You need to return as soon as possible so we can get married.”

Laurent extended his hand in front of Damen and rose his fancy eyebrows, daring him to put the ring on his finger. Damen laughed, gently holding Laurent's delicate fingers and placing the ring on it.

“What if I didn't want to marry you?” Damen teased, kissing Laurent's hand.

Laurent placed his hands on Damen’s shoulder, bending over to place a seductive kiss on his lips.

“Don't care. Gonna put a ring on your finger and marry you anyway.”

Damen laughed warmly.

“All right, then. Let’s get married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little less intense than the first, but I hope you have enjoyed it! I expect to post the third one on April 1st! (´ω｀*)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Huf! I'm here with the new chapter. It's still April 1st!!! (Barely)  
> I'm very nervous about it, but I hope you like it! (´ヮ`)

Laurent was pulled away from his dreams by a loud alarm echoing through the barracks. His mind took a while to catch up with what was happening. Nicaise, who had been sleeping in his arms, also rose his head, looking around.

“It's all right. Everything is fine.” Laurent said, caressing his son's head.

Nicaise swallowed dryly from the lack of water and nodded. Laurent sat up and, realizing everyone else was now standing, he did the same. Nicaise followed his actions, hiding behind his father while holding his hand.

“Time for breakfast!” The soldier shouted, holding a large gun in front of his chest. “Form a line and we'll head to the mess hall.”

Those words made Laurent realize how long it had been since he had eaten. About twenty four hours earlier he had eaten his breakfast, before leaving for the supermarket. Nicaise had probably eaten his lunch around the same time, at school. It all felt surreal and far away. As if the incidents had happened not twenty four hours but several days ago.

As he got in line, Laurent found the woman that had cared for Nicaise standing right in front of him and approached her. She glanced at him and nodded without much expression. Laurent stood in an equally refined posture and nodded as well.

“Thank you for caring for my son.” Laurent said.

“It's all right. He's a good kid. Very quiet.” She replied.

Laurent felt his heart sink a little, but kept his composure. In his mind, the image of Nicaise, at three years old, stabbing Damen on the leg with a fork for not listening to him came to mind. Nicaise was daring, confident and talkative. But here he was not. Laurent squeezed Nicaise's hand and forced a smile.

“Thank you.” He said again. “I'm Laurent. This is Nicaise.”

“Loyse.” She smiled briefly. “This is my husband, Guion.”

“Nice to meet you.” Laurent reciprocated the smile and they headed to the mess hall.

The food was disgusting. So disgusting some of it splashed on Laurent's shirt when it was thrown onto his plate and he was sure it would stain. Nicaise frowned at it and pushed the plate away as they sat at the table.

“Eat it.” Laurent said, pulling the plate closer to Nicaise again.

“But it's so gross.” Nicaise said.

“Eat it.” Laurent firmly repeated and forced himself to eat a mouthful.

It was more than disgusting. Not only it had no seasoning, but it also had no taste whatsoever. Laurent had never eaten something so awful in his life, not even when he and Damen had to buy the cheapest ingredients in the supermarket, back when they lived together in Vere.

Nicaise followed his orders and ate, but Laurent could see his expression of disgust with every bite. Nicaise was used to his parent's delicious food, made with the best ingredients and spices. He even brought a lunchbox to school everyday and, even though there were incidents in which they were stolen or thrown to the ground, Nicaise had always had some extra lunch in his bag.

After the so-called “breakfast”, they were allowed an hour in the sun, outside. It would have been a nice change of airs if the sun was even slightly less unforgiving. Laurent tried to find shade but there was none. Nicaise was already sweating and Laurent could only imagine what his son's skin would become from standing for so long in that sun. For a moment Laurent remembered his first day living in Akielos, which he spent complaining about the heat, much to Damen's entertainment. 

Laurent lowered his pants an inch or so and pulled the collar of his shirt up, hoping to keep every part of his ankles and nape from the sun as much as possible. He placed himself between the sun and Nicaise and talked to him for distraction. Nicaise did not seem to notice at first, but when Laurent's sweat started dripping on his hair, Nicaise frowned.

“Aren't you hot? Can't we ask them to go inside?”

“They won't let us, son.”

“Then hide behind my shadow for a while! You'll get really red!” Nicaise said, trying to walk around Laurent.

“No, Nicaise. It's all right. Just stay under my shadow. Really. Daddy's fine.” Laurent pulled Nicaise back and held him there.

“But-”

“Nicaise, please. Just do as I say.” Laurent said, somewhat irritated from the heat.

“...Okay.” Nicaise stepped to the front and leaned against Laurent.

When the guard finally called them inside Laurent had never been so grateful. He was dizzy from the heat and he was sure his nape would be burning that night. He noticed one of the women had a baby in her arms and got frustrated. This baby would not last long without water, so he would have to swallow his pride.

“Can she get a bottle of water, please?” Laurent asked a guard, nudging towards the woman with his chin. “She has a baby.”

“She'll get next cup of water at lunch.” The soldier replied.

“She has an _infant_. This heat is unbearable.” Laurent insisted.

“They seem alive enough. Now walk.”

“And you claim Veretians are the merciless ones.” Laurent muttered, loud and clear enough for the soldiers to hear. 

The soldier rose his eyebrows and puled Laurent off the line, throwing him to the ground. Laurent staggered but did not fall until the soldier hit his head with the back of his gun.

“Daddy!” Nicaise shouted, crouching beside Laurent.

“Nicaise, go back to line!” Laurent said and pushed his son back.

Loyse and Laurent exchanged looks before she took Nicaise's arm, pulling him away. When he hesitated, Loyse held him firmly and forced him to walk. Nicaise struggled but Laurent ordered him to go with Loyse.

The soldier pulled Laurent by the hair to get him on his feet and told another two to take him to a separate room. Laurent understood what this was and did not hesitate to go with them. It was more than a simple punishment. It was not about Laurent or the water. It was about discipline, about control. It was about making a show out of Laurent's punishment, so he would not give them this pleasure.

A soldier of higher rank, probably a lieutenant, walked in after a few minutes. Laurent had been given a chair in which he did not sit. The captain approached with a cocky expression.

“So, you have complaints about our services?”

“Can you blame me?” Laurent mocked.

“Why don't you sit?” The captain offered.

“I'd rather not. But please, be my guest.” Laurent gestured towards the chair.

“This one's got a mouth on him.” The lieutenant let out a breath of amusement before nodding to his piers. “I don’t like that. And I also hate this disgusting yellow hair of yours.”

The two soldiers suddenly pulled Laurent towards the chair and sat him down forcefully. Laurent struggled but they kept him in place. The captain approached Laurent and grabbed his hair, pushing his head back.

“I would like to remind you this is nothing but a simple warning. You know, since it’s your first day.” The captain had a cocky smile. “Continue to behave like this and I promise you'll know hell.”

“Oh, so there's a place worse than here?” Laurent mocked.

“You have been warned.”

 

\-------------

 

All eyes were on him when Laurent walked to the laudry room he had been assigned to. He ignored the widened eyes and kept his head high, proudly parading his recently shaved head. He refused to let his feelings show. He would hide, deep down, how humiliating it felt.

To Laurent his hair was not a matter of vanity. It was a memory, a memento of his life before this. Laurent's hair had always been the part of his body Damen loved most. And Damen had told him that many times. During their talks in the library, the first time they made love, or at random hours of the day in which Damen felt the need to be romantic. It always came accompanied by a kiss and Damen's fingers crawling up his golden hair, playing with the strands. And now it was gone. Along with his family, his home and his freedom. 

“You should stop defying them.” Loyse advised, sitting beside him and washing some dirty uniforms. 

“And give them the pleasure?” Laurent mocked, cleaning a pair of boots. 

“What if they kill you?”

“Then they would have no one else left to torture.” Laurent would not let himself be tamed and silenced like a misbehaving animal.

When he returned to the barracks at night, Laurent received more attention from his roommates. Nicaise widened his big blue eyes when Laurent approached. Laurent made sure to keep his composure as he sat down on his bed.

 

“Daddy, your hair...” Nicaise’s eyes were still wide as he reached out but did not touch Laurent’s head.

“It'll grow back. Besides, this is quite a look for summer. Very refreshing.” Laurent joked, running his hand through what was left of his golden strands. He held back the involuntary flinch of his arm as he felt the lack of hair for the first time. Nicaise looked up at his father and hugged him. Laurent caressed his head and kissed it.

“Why is this happening to us?”

Laurent sighed and sat Nicaise on his lap. He took his hard, thin pillow and placed it on the bed.

“You know that we, with pale skin, come from a place called Vere, right?”

“And this is why everyone hates us.” Nicaise said. Laurent did not reply.

“Our continent is divided in four countries: Vere, Akielos, Vask and Patras. And a long, long time ago, Akielons lived mostly in Ios, down here, which is where we live.”

Nicaise paid attention to Laurent’s explanation like it was an entertaining bedtime story.

“Veretians, lived in Arles. All the way up north. Now, imagine if you, Pallas and Théo all stayed in our house forever. If you had children, and your children had children, and their children had children… Well, that’s a lot of children for just one house, right?” Laurent chuckled and Nicaise did too.

“It wouldn’t fit. So, Akielons started going north, to get more space for new Akielons. And Veretians did the same, heading south. They couldn’t go east because Vask and Patras were already there. We can’t simply invade our neighbor’s house, right?”

“Are you sure? Ours kinda suck.”

“I am.” Laurent held back a laugh. “Now, this region here, the pillow, is named Delpha in Akielon or Delfleur in Veretian. It lies between Akielos and Vere and they both wanted it. Ever since Vere and Akielos met here in the middle, they have been at war over this piece of land. Twenty years ago, they decided to call it a neutral zone, which means it did not belong to anyone. And so, created the Opening of Borders. Ever since then, Akielons and Veretians could travel between the two countries, interact with one another, get married...”

“That's when you and daddy met.” Nicaise said.

“Exactly. And later, it was what allowed your biological parents to come to Akielos. This is why you, a Veretian, was kept in an Akielon orphanage. Officially, you are an Akielos-Living Veretian citizen.”

“That's what it says on my card.”

“Exactly. And that allowed you to stay. But, you see, now we are at war again, for some reason. And so, they are keeping Veretians and mixed-race people locked up.”

“But we haven't done anything!” Nicaise protested.

“No, we have not. But it doesn't matter to them. Because we look like we do, some believe we don't belong here.”

“This is so unfair.”

“I agree. But this is what war brings. Hate, destruction, sadness.” Laurent said, resting his head on Nicaise's. “And this is happening right now in Vere too. With Akielons like your father. You see, no one wins at a war. Not even the winners.”

Nicaise said nothing more, for there was nothing left to say.

 

\-------------

 

Damen was given three days off from his boss. If questioned why upon his return, he was to answer that he had a very strong cold. It would not fool anyone, of course, but for the official records it was necessary. Pallas was also allowed a one week break from school to pull himself together.

On the first day, when they sat at the table after cleaning up the outside of the house, routine had them selecting four plates and a tiny bowl and arranging them in order. Two plates on the right side for Damen and Nicaise, two on the left for Laurent and Pallas and between Damen and Laurent's plate, in front of the highchair, they placed Théodore's bowl. By the time they realized what had happened, they had been sitting down, ready to eat. None of them moved to serve themselves.

“Wanna sit on the couch?” Damen suggested.

Pallas rose instantly, served himself and Damen before sitting on the couch. Damen followed him and turned on the television.

They tried watching the news, hoping there would be a list of names, or more information about the camps. Yet, the news were normal, as if nothing had happened. There were news of war, but no information about Veretians whatsoever.

“In a meeting to decide the fate of the abandoned land of Delpha, President Kastor's offer to divide the land has been denied by Veretians, leading both countries to war once more.” Said the news reporter.

Damen could almost laugh at the biased way it was told. He could even imagine the same news, sounding very different in Veretian televisions. Or perhaps, way too similar, change a few words and names. He could also imagine president Kastor offering, so kindly, five percent of Delpha and being outraged that Veretians would not accept his “generous offer”.

“For safety measures, all Veretians and half-breeds have been properly contained in camps.”

Damen and Pallas stopped eating, hoping there would be some information about the camps, but it never came. For the first few days Damen tried calling Nikandros several times after each transmission, but every time Nikandros claimed he knew nothing of Laurent or their children. And Damen knew it to be a lie.

“Just tell me the truth, Nikandros! Where are they!?” Damen shouted from the kitchen, clearly altered. Pallas sat quietly on the couch, listening in silence.

“Damen, I told you, I have no idea. Just calm down.” Nikandros replied.

“Yes, you do! You're a commander! How the fuck can you not find him!?”

“Damen, you know how many Veretians there are in Akielos? I'm telling you to calm down.”

“No! I won't calm down! They-” Damen supported himself against the kitchen cabinet. “Nikandros, please, Théodore is just a baby. Nicaise is barely eight. Please tell me something.”

“Damen, I'm telling you I don't know, okay? Stop calling me.”

Nikandros hung up. Damen sighed and turned, sitting on the floor, his back to the lower cabinets. He thought of Laurent, of Nicaise and of Théo. He imagined all the different scenarios, all that could happen to them inside the camps.

“Dad?” Pallas's voice forced Damen to rise his head.

“Pallas.” Damen tried to keep his tone calm.

“What should we do?”

“I don't know. I really don't.” Damen admitted. They had been to military bases, to police stations; Damen even tried to reach out for the media, but it was all in vain. No one seemed willing to help. “I have to work tomorrow and you should go to school. For now, we should focus on that.”

Pallas nodded and they washed the dishes before returning to their rooms. Damen lay down and sighed. His bed felt large and cold as he roamed his hand across the empty space in which Laurent should be. He took a deep breath, set up his alarm clock and forced himself to sleep.

 

\-------------

 

From then on life became nothing more than a simple routine for Damen and Pallas. They would wake up, have breakfast and leave the house. Pallas would return a few hours later and do his homework. After that, he would clean up their house’s facade. When Damen arrived, Pallas would still be outside, so he changed out of his work clothes quickly to help out his son.

“Maybe we should paint the whole house black.” Damen suggested, on the fourth day.

“Then they'll write in white.” Pallas curtly replied. “We should put security cameras.”

Damen sighed.

“I'll get them tomorrow. Let's have dinner.”

They got inside, took showers and sat on the couch to have dinner and watch the news. The next morning, the cycle would restart. For a while, it seemed as if time had stopped for them. That night, however, the doorbell rang when they were about to sleep, disturbing their fixed routine. Pallas stood in the hallway when Damen left his room, after putting on his sweatpants. With a wave of his hand, Damen sent Pallas back to his room and took a baseball bat he had bought after receiving several threats. Palllas sat on his bed, but kept his phone in hand, paying attention to the sounds downstairs.

Damen approached the door and opened it. Instead of an offender, Nikandros stood before him, wearing a black hoodie to hide his identity. Damen widened his eyes and let him in instantly. He opened his mouth and Nikandros rose a hand to stop him. Nikandros headed straight to the kitchen, where there was only a single window. He closed the delicate drapes and pushed the hood from his head.

“Listen to me. I was never here. You never saw me. You tried to call me, but after that you never heard from me again.”

Damen said nothing and took a deep breath.

“They are all alive and fine. They have been sent to a camp after the selection and,”

“What selection?” Damen asked.

“...Veretians and half-breeds have been separated.”

“What!? Then what about Théodore!?”

“I ordered him to be given to a young men on the half-breed section of the camp. He is fine. The boy is taking good care of him.”

“Where is it? Where is the camp!?”

“You know I can't tell you that. I shouldn't even be telling you anything at all. Just trust me, all right?”

“Will they be fine? Safe?” Damen asked.

“I can't say for sure. But, for now, we're stuck in a cold war. A lot of menacing, not much action, but you know that can change. If it does,” Nikandros sighed. “If it does, I'll do everything I can to keep them safe.”

Damen sighed and leaned against the kitchen island. He pushed his hair back and ran his hand over his face, resting it over his mouth. So much was going through his mind and he tried to arrange his thoughts.

“I have to go now.” Nikandros said. “Do not call me. You and your husband need to calm down or I'll never be able to help you or your children.”

Damen nodded and pulled Nikandros in for a hug. Nikandros reciprocated and patted Damen on the back. In the silence of the night, Nikandros left. His face hidden by a hood, like a criminal escaping from a crime scene. Damen understood, then, what this meant for Nikandros. He had been willing to lose it all: His rank, his freedom, his whole life, just to be able to help Damen's family. Damen remembered himself yelling at Nikandros on the phone, judging him, thinking he had abandoning Laurent to fate. Damen whispered an apology as he closed the door.

 

\-------------

 

Living in the camps was humiliating to say the least. Showers were the worst part of it, though. The concept of privacy was one hard to keep when everyone showered together, separated only by sex. Women's groups went first, then returned to the barracks. Then it was time for the men to shower.

Laurent would be lying if he had not heard all sorts of mockery regarding his body during his life. He was young when he came to Akielos and, just like in Vere, brown and white together looked nothing but disgusting to the eyes of those around them. Even for some of Damen's so called “friends” - People who had been permanently cut from his life at that point – came all sorts of insults. Laurent could remember to this day all of the offenses thrown at him by them or random strangers on the street, including some absurdities even he felt ashamed to repeat out loud.

All of this was humiliating, but Laurent could deal with it. However, when this kind of mockery was directed at his son, Laurent caught himself breathing deeply, trying not to say anything. He put himself between a soldier's line of sight and Nicaise when he noticed the two guards whispering among themselves. One of them grimaced and shivered exaggeratedly before they laughed between themselves.

If the privacy issues were not bad enough, the lack of resources was. For starters, there was no shampoo. They were given one bar of soap, which Laurent assumed it would have to last. His assumption was confirmed after the soldiers announced it would be that for the month. Children received half a bar. Infants received one quarter. Laurent realized these people either had no idea how to care for an infant or simply did not care at all.

They were also given three minutes under the showers. One before, another two after the soap. The group had two hours to be done, dressed and in line. Those with infants were given an extra minute. Once more, Laurent thought about how these people did not understand the concept of bathing a child. Just because they are smaller, it did not mean the task was any easier or faster. The parents ended up using their own time to wash their children and, those who somehow managed to have some time to spare and were willing would lend a hand.

Laurent knew Nicaise, like any other eight year old boy, did not care much for personal hygiene. Yet, in camp Nicaise was well-behaved. He listened. He cleaned himself thoroughly and efficiently. Thought Laurent was grateful for it, he could not help wondering if the trauma of being taken from his family and coming to such an awful place had not been responsible for killing Nicaise's brave spirit.

They received another set of clothes, luckily not the ones they had worn during the day and returned to the barracks. Laurent had felt slightly grateful for having his hair shaved during the shower. It was practical to wash and gave him time to help Nicaise with his enormous amount of hair.

When they lay down on the creaky metal bed, with nothing but a thick comforter to serve as a mattress, Laurent could feel the faint and sweet smell of soap coming from Nicaise's hair. Nicaise felt warm and soft against him, which reminded Laurent of Théodore. Laurent wondered if he had taken his first step, or said his first word by now. He was too young, Laurent understood, but the thought of missing all of this made his heart ache.

“It'll be all right.” Nicaise said softly, placing his hand over Laurent's heart. Its quick beatings could obviously be felt from Nicaise's position. “Don't worry.”

Laurent kissed Nicaise's head and smiled softly at him.

“Yes, it will.” He answered.

 

\-------------

 

Pallas had been back to school for over eight months. His good grades and superb athletic skills had decreased considerably after what had been called the “Veretian purge”. Due to his Veretian father, brother and more recently boyfriend, Pallas had few friends. Those friends now pitied him and never dared to speak of anything else but trivial school matters, making their conversations either dull or non-existent.

If that was not bad enough, without Veretian targets to attack, Veretian sympathizers became the new objects of bully by extremists. Pallas was tired of being persecuted by them and, not having any kind of news from his family so long had been gradually making him less and less tolerant.

Which explained why Damen picked him up from the principal's office, with a black eye and a cut lip. It was the third time in six months, and more than Pallas had ever fought in his entire life. Pallas was usually very patient and had gotten physical about two or three times, those being nothing more than pushing Nicaise to the ground or giving him one or two slaps after hours of being annoyed by him.

The ride home was silent as it could be. Damen did not know how to approach the subject. Pallas had lost his family once when he was returned to the orphanage as a child. And now that he had found a family that loved him, they were the ones taken away. Not only that, but he fact that Pallas was still a teenager, and having just spend his seventeenth birthday alone, did not help much in the control of his emotions.

They entered the house and Pallas headed straight to his room. Damen sighed and threw himself on the couch. He took a moment to himself, thought about how Laurent would behave in a situation like that and headed to Pallas's room. Damen knocked and slowly opened the door.

“Pallas, we need to talk.”

Pallas was reading, which was unusual since he would always be on his phone and nothing but his phone. Pallas did not put down his book, but Damen did not believe he had been actually reading it from the very beginning, since his eyes rested on a single spot on the page. Damen sat by the edge of the bed.

“You need to stop these fights, Pallas. I understand how it can be frustrating, I know I'm the worse person to be talking to you about it, but fighting won't solve anything.”

“Then what will? What will make them stop saying awful things about my brother? About dad? Or Lazar? And speaking of them, when are they coming home? 'Soon'? It's been almost a year, dad. They are not coming back.”

“We can't think like that. We will have them back. I don't know how or when, but we will.”

“Why isn't uncle Nikandros doing anything? Isn't he some sort of important figure in the army? Why can't we even get any news?” Pallas asked.

“Nikandros is doing his best to keep them safe. He can't directly help them or their only protection will be gone.” Damen explained.

“...This is bullshit.”

“I know it is. But this is how things are at the moment. We need to be strong.” Damen said, squeezing Pallas’s shoulder.

Pallas sighed, not looking at Damen.

“I miss them.” He whispered.

“I know. I do too. But fighting is not the way, all right? Keep focused on your life and your studies. Let _me_ worry about how to get them back. It’s my job as your father.” Damen smiled.

Pallas nodded and Damen rose.

“Wait! Dad, huh, want to play?” Pallas asked, glancing at the video game console on the shelf.

It had been a while since Pallas had wanted to do any sort of activity with his parents and Damen was thrilled to be invited. Yet, following his husband’s usual approach, he did not show it on his face.

“Sure.”

The corner of Pallas’s mouth rose.

“Ow.” Pallas touched the tips of his fingers on his teared lip and Damen held back a chuckle.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent had developed a few habits during incarceration. One of them was that everyday, he would recite the date on his head twice. Once after waking up, then one more time before sleeping. This habit became more and more painful as he slowly saw Théodore's first birthday approaching. It felt surreal that his son was so close, right after the fences in the yard, and yet unreachable.

On the day of Théodore’s birthday, Laurent woke up before the alarm. He recited the date and sighed. Nicaise still slept in his arms, probably unaware of it. Laurent would not be the one to tell him, though. He did not need to know what he was missing.

Suddenly, a soldier approached, doing his usual patrol between the beds. He entered the small space between Laurent and Nicaise’s bed, looked straight into Laurent’s eyes and discreetly took a small piece of paper from his pocket, throwing it over Nicaise with a meaningful look.

Laurent glanced at it and recognized Nikandros’s handwriting. Without making a single noise and restraining his own movements he took it and read it. _Go east during Sun Break. - N_. The soldier returned and took the paper back without a word, barely giving Laurent time to finish reading it. He shoved it back into his pocket and left.

Laurent was left unsure of what to do. He wondered if he could really trust Nikandros after not being helped by him in months. Still, Nikandros had once given him shelter, food and _was_ Damen’s best friend after all. And not once Nikandros had said or done anything disrespectful towards Laurent or his sons, so Laurent decided it might be wise to trust him.

When the sun break came, Laurent slowly moved to the left side. He had know east from watching the sun rise and set from the small windows inside the barracks. Reaching the fence he realized he had been approaching the half-breed part of the camp. It was still three fences and over eight feet away, but Laurent’s heart filled with hope nonetheless. His heart beat faster and his hand gently squeezed Nicaise’s. Yet he strolled around nonchalantly, trying not to draw attention to himself from the guards.

A dry and short alarm, different from the long and screeching siren one that woke them up everyday, rang from the other camp and Laurent turned towards the fence as slowly as he could, faking a simple reaction to a noise. The guards were somewhat far away from him and barely turned, as if they had been expecting it. Laurent found it strange.

The doors to the yard opened at the half-breed section and people started to leave the building, gathering in the backyard. Laurent knew it was not normal. Veretian and half-breed’s sun breaks were different, as Laurent knew quite well from when he had hoped to see Théodore before. And yet the half-breeds were leaving the building, one after another. Laurent searched while, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed Nicaise glancing between the people leaving and his father. Nicaise understood it too.

It took a while for him to come out. A young man, with pale skin and soft curls decorating his delicate features. He carried dark skinned baby and Laurent felt he was the one. Laurent held his breath as the lost eyes of the young man found him. They exchanged a meaningful look and Laurent glanced behind himself. The soldiers were chatting in a corner far away.

Laurent slowly approached the fence, pulling Nicaise along. The young man did the same, equally aware of his surroundings and equally unguarded. This was definitely Nikandros’s doing.

“Is this-” Laurent could not say his name yet. It felt too hopeful. “Does he have blue eyes?”

The man widened his eyes and vehemently nodded. Laurent smiled for a second before forcing himself not to. The young man turned the infant in Laurent’s direction and there was no longer room for doubt. It was Théodore. Nicaise smiled and turned to Laurent, who briefly caressed his head. Nicaise was smart and did not make any sounds. He held back his smile and waved.

“Hi, Théo.” Nicaise said in a tone of voice loud enough to reach his brother, but not enough to draw attention for himself.

Théo squirmed, trying to get out of the young man’s lap. He looked even taller when he was put down and Laurent felt proud and excited as Théo stood, holding onto the fence for support. He softly stomped his tiny feet on the ground and laughed.

“We have been taking care of him.” The young man said. “Everyone loves him around here.”

“Thank you. I’m so grateful. Thank you for caring for him.” Laurent said, taking his eyes off Théo for a moment to look at the man.

“Not a problem. He’s a very nice child.” He said. “Though, may I ask, what is his name? We have been calling him ‘little one’ for far too long. I think we need a real name.”

Laurent sighed, a mix of anger and gratefulness. These people had not given Théodore a name out of respect for his parents and Laurent had never imagined people could be this kind. And yet, on the other hand, no one had even bothered to tell Théodore’s caretaker his name, though Laurent could clearly see the tiny badge with his number stuck to his chest. It was as though he was a simple product on a shelf, not a person.

“Théodore. His name is Théodore.” Laurent said.

“Théodore. That’s a very pretty name.” The young man said.

“Thank you. I’m Laurent, by the way. This is my son, Nicaise.” Laurent said and touched Nicaise’s head. “What about you?”

“Erasmus.” The man replied. “Don’t worry about him. We will care for him for as long as it takes.”

The meaning behind Erasmus’s words had an effect on them. They all wondered how long it would take for Laurent to have Théodore back in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I will tell him about you.” Erasmus reassured Laurent. “Laurent and Nicaise. I will tell him you exist and are waiting for him.”

“Thank you.”

Laurent thought of mentioning Damen and Pallas as well, but their conversation was interrupted by the guards from the half-breed part of the camp reaching the yard to bring them all back inside, finally realizing their mistake. Erasmus glanced back and then at Laurent, receiving a nod in return. Erasmus grabbed Théo, who was taken, once again, crying and away from Laurent.

Nicaise firmly held his father’s hand as they returned slowly to where the Veretian group gathered. Loyse was there with her husband, Guion. Laurent tried to replace the image of Théodore crying with the one of him standing, laughing and happy to have someone to care for him. For a moment, the corner of his mouth dared to rise from that thought.

“You seem happy.” She said.

“Even here, we need to have some good days.”

Laurent told her and glanced up. Nikandros hid behind the curtains from his office and looked down at Laurent from a small gap. He closed the drapes and Laurent lowered himself to thoughtlessly kiss Nicaise’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading!  
> As usual I expect to post the next chapter on the 15th.  
> HOWEVER, I have been unsatisfied with it, and now I have to edit the whoooole thing. Which would be fine, but I've been super busy. So, I will do my very best to post it on the 15th, but it might come a little bit late. But this is just a **possibility**! 
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry for any inconveniences and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> I almost did it!!! (ಥ_ಥ) Hahaha! I'm a little late, but I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> (PS: I hope there will be a day I'll be less nervous with the new chapters. LOL)

The moment Damen set foot in Akielos he understood how hard it would be to return to Vere. His father had barely approved of him joining the exchange program, let alone move. And Damen did not even want to imagine what would happen when his father learned about Laurent. Yet, Damen had no choice but to explain when Theomedes caught him speaking Veretian to Laurent on the phone.

“Who are you talking to?” His father asked.

“I gotta go.” Damen said and hung up. “It was my friend from Vere.”

“'Friend'?” Theomedes rose his eyebrow. “So you're friends with them now?”

“Dad, I spent a year there.”

“Yes, and you were treated so well, right?” Theomedes mocked.

“I was treated like a Veretian would be treated here.” Damen spat back.

“Damn right they would. Those lying snakes bring nothing good to our country.”

“I wanna live there.” Damen hesitated, but figured it would be best to simply say it and get it over with. 

“...Excuse me?”

“I want to go live in Vere.” Damen leaned against the kitchen counter and gently placed his cup in the sink.

“...You met some Veretian. That's why you were speaking Veretian on the phone.”

“I did.”

“You're not going. If what you seek is a white thing to fuck we can make a whole on the wall.”

“Dad, he's not a _thing_. None of them are. They are people, just like you and me.”

“No, they're not. They think of nothing but war.”

“A war cannot be fought alone.”

“You're not going to Vere.” Theomedes turned around and made his way to the entrance.

“I _am_ going to Vere.”

“Not with my money you're not.”

“Then perhaps I don't need your money!”

Damen let escape and Theomedes turned again with a condescending smile.

“Is that so? Tell me, is this manipulative little bastard worth not inheriting my company? Is he worth never speaking to your family ever again?”

Theomedes asked and Damen felt his heart sink. For a moment, he reconsidered. He thought of not going. He loved his father and wanted to share his life with him.

“Dad, please. I don’t want to lose you. Why won’t you give him a chance?”

“Because he’s a disgusting Veretian.” Theomedes promptly answered.

Damen realized, then, there would be no way he keep them both. He would have to choose between his family or Laurent. On one hand he had the love of his life waiting for him across the border. On the other, there was his father, daring to disown him out of sheer hate towards Laurent, who he had never even met. The choice became painfully clear.

“Well, then I’m sorry but… Laurent is worth anything.”

“Then go ahead and leave. I won't put my company in the hands of those who lay with walking corpses.”

“Dad…!” Damen tried but Theomedes left, slamming the door as he did so.

 

\-------------

 

The month before Damen’s departure had been harsh. Theomedes had tried for so long to keep his son in Akielos, but Damen’s determination to be with Laurent was greater than his father’s patience. Heated arguments happened at all times, sometimes even witnessed by servants.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving. Abandoning your house, your family and your country to be with a despicable little Veretian snake!”

Damen could hear the hurt in Theomedes’s voice as he opened the door. His suitcases rested on the floor beside him, waiting to be carried out the door and on the way to Vere. They carried most of Damen’s belongings.

“I am not! You’re the one making me do this! Why can’t I simply live there and visit you!?” Damen argued, turning to face his father.

“No son of mine will associate himself with those lying white snakes!”

“That’s the thing, dad… I’m already associated to him. He’s the love of my life and I'm going to marry him.”

Theomedes pursed his trembling lips, taking a deep breath. He squeezed the handrail of the large stairs leading upstairs, yet his glistening eyes did not leave Damen’s.

“Then you are no longer my son.”

 

\-------------

 

Despite the lack of communication with his father, the first weeks in Vere had been delightful. Laurent had a way of pulling Damen from his thoughts and bringing him to the pleasing reality they lived in. At their minuscule apartment on the outskirts of downtown, they would eat crappy food, fix the never ending issues of their apartment and fully enjoy their young vitality as much as possible. If it was not for the lack of employment, he would have dared to call his life almost perfect.

That day, rain woke Damen up before the alarm clock. He glanced out the window, planning out his day. When Laurent woke up, he would leave for work and Damen would stay home. He needed to do the dishes from last night and clean the bathroom. It should not take more than an hour or so, he imagined. Then he would leave as well. He had two interviews scheduled, which seemed almost surreal. Too good to be true.

The alarm clock took him from his thoughts. Laurent did not move, but Damen did not turn it off. At that point he knew exactly how Laurent expected him to act. Laurent ignored the shrieking sound, as if he was not even awake, before it rang again five minutes later. This time, Damen turned the alarm off and rolled to lay on top of Laurent.

“Come on, love. Wake up.” He whispered, squeezing his fiancee in his arms. “It’s time for work.”

Laurent grunted, almost roaring at Damen. He was not a morning person. Damen allowed him another five minutes before kissing his cheeks, then his neck. Laurent’s complaints slowly turned into soft moans. He was still irritated, that was clear, but he was definitely awake.

“I’ll go make us breakfast. Please get up soon.” Damen said, kissing Laurent’s head before leaving the bedroom.

Rubbing his eyes and stretching, he made his way into the kitchen, where he prepared their breakfast. Laurent came almost ten minutes later, dragging his feet across the kitchen floor and dropping himself on a chair. Damen placed Laurent’s plate and cup in front of him and he ate lazily and sipped on his coffee, eyes focused on a single spot on the table.

Damen talked a little, not expecting a response. Laurent would sometimes nod, to let Damen know he was still listening, but no words came out of his mouth and the blue of his eyes could be barely seen from the small space between his eyelids.

They ate together and, by the time Laurent was leaving the house, he was somewhat more energetic; though he was not even close to having half of Damen’s morning enthusiasm.

“Give me your,” Laurent rolled his eyes, irritated from not remembering the word. He pointed at the table.

“Resume.” Damen said, handing him a couple envelopes for Laurent to distribute.

“Shut up.” Laurent smirked. “I’m going. See you tonight.”

Laurent pulled Damen down by the shirt and kissed him. The kiss was a little longer and more intense than necessary, so he tidied up his own shirt once more before leaving. Damen chuckled as he left and Laurent’s mood improved just from that.

Mornings were the worst. Laurent could not believe that after having studied for so many years he still had to wake up early in the morning to work. His brain, body and emotions were not made for this. Still, he did not dare to complain. Damen worked hard trying to find a job for himself, so Laurent would keep quiet and support him.

For that same reason, Laurent did not hesitate to go into the convenience store close to his work, even if it meant him being late and probably soaked from the rain, just so he could hand over Damen’s resume. He waited in line, waiting patiently for his turn until he reached the cashier.

“Good morning.” Laurent said, in a tone so sweet he barely recognized himself. “I saw the sign outside, are you still looking for help?”

“Uh, yes, I think so. Let me call the manager.”

The cashier headed to the back of the store and returned with an older man, wearing regular clothes instead of a uniform. The man waved at Laurent and they spoke on the corner. The store was nearly empty by that point.

“So, you wanna work here?” The manager asked.

“Well, not me. My husband. He couldn’t be here today, but he’s very hardworking, I can assure you.”

“Well, actually we’re looking for someone, huh, how can I say... Strong. I mean, really strong. He'll need to carry heavy boxes all day long.”

Laurent’s laugh was more than honest.

“My husband is strong, trust me. He’s about this size,” Laurent put a hand over his own head, then widened his arms a bit to illustrate Damen’s size. “and he can lift a couch by himself. I have _seen_ it.”

“Well, does this strong husband of yours has a resume?” The manager seemed quite interested.

“Yes!” Laurent was excited. “Yes, he does! And he’s well-educated as well. He has a master’s degree.”

Laurent grabbed Damen’s resume from his bag and handed it over to the manager. The man took a quick look at it and nodded in approval.

“Okay, I’ll check it out and let you know. But it looks promising.”

“It is, I swear. You won’t find a better candidate.” Laurent reassured him and they shook hands.

Laurent was passing through the door, with a smile on his lips when the manager asked him to wait. Laurent froze, his hand on the door’s handle, knowing all too well in his heart the reason why. Uneasily, he turned around, trying to force a smile.

“Yes?”

“Ios University? Damianos? Is he,” The manager almost could not say it. Almost as if it was a curse word. “by any chance, Akielon?”

“He is.” Laurent admitted. It was not like Damen could ever pretend he was not anyway, but all Laurent wanted was to give him a chance for an interview. “Is that a problem?”

“...No.” The manager answered with a smile faker than Laurent’s. “I’ll call if anything comes up.”

Laurent checked his wristwatch.

“I’ll look forward to it.” Laurent said. “He’s a great worker. Please consider him.”

Laurent left with no hopes of Damen ever being called in for an interview. He felt frustrated from not being able to argue. He could not afford to be even more late than he already was. If he lost his job, not only Damen would be unemployed, but they would be starving on the streets of the big city. He went to work.

 

\-------------

 

As expected, the convenience store manager did not call. Neither did the two interviewers from that same day, nor the next twenty places Damen applied to that week. Unable to find work, Damen had to prematurely marry Laurent in order to stay in the country, and even that required much more time and bureaucracy than expected. Since the Opening of Borders it was not illegal for Akielons and Veretians to marry, but it was as difficult as it could be.

“Why is it taking so long?” Laurent asked, impatient, as they showered.

“Well, you know how these things are. Visas take time, specially between Akielos and Vere.” Damen said, washing Laurent’s hair, taking far more time than necessary to do so.

“But your tourist visa expires in two weeks. And if you leave, how will you come back? We don’t have the money, Damen.”

“I know, I know. If this happens, I’ll find a job there and work my ass off to come back.” Damen reassured Laurent, pulling him under the shower. “But let’s not worry about this for now. It’s no use. Let's just just enjoy the time we have together, all right? One day at a time.”

Damen smiled and Laurent sighed, rinsing his hair. Damen got out of the shower and dried himself under the careful watch of his, now, husband. Laurent could never understand why no one would be willing to give Damen a chance. It frustrated him how Damen’s intelligence, his strength and charming personality could be completely ignored over the place he had been born.

Laurent remembered his college classmates rejecting Damen the same way and, once again, found himself at a loss. How could anyone look at that mesmerizing olive skin and find it unattractive? To him Damen was the most handsome man on the planet. From the strange shape of his toes to the perfect curves of his curls, everything seemed to fit together into a gorgeous image.

Still, there was one thing there that did not match. That spoiled the impeccable picture that was the man in front of him. Damen’s body stiffened as Laurent ran lean fingers on his back. It was not uncomfortable, just a reaction to touch. Even so, Laurent removed his fingers instantly.

“Does it hurt?” Laurent asked in a whisper.

“No, not at all.” Damen chuckled. “It’s just strange. It’s the first time you touch my back after what happened.”

Laurent opened his mouth to deny, but he could not. He should have imagined Damen would notice the way he avoided scratching his back when they made love. How his affections would no longer reach Damen’s back, but the curls of the back of his head.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I know.” Damen’s smile was sweet as he reached out and took Laurent’s hand in his, kissing its palm.

Laurent realized from Damen’s warm lips how cold his own hand and body were. His almost imperceptible shiver did not go unnoticed and Damen took his towel, wrapping around Laurent.

“This one is warm.”

“Yes, but it’s gross. It has your germs.” Laurent mocked, wrapping himself on Damen’s towel.

“I think it’s a little too late to worry about that.” Damen laughed and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Come, let’s have dinner.”

 

\-------------

 

When the three months of his tourist visa had expired, Damen had to return to Akielos and work for almost four months before he could reenter Vere with his, at last obtained, spouse visa. Without a home to return to, he had stayed with Nikandros in the meantime.

Upon his return Laurent went to pick him up at the train station, along with Auguste. Even among Veretians, the two of them stood out and Damen smiled warmly as he spotted the two matching golden heads in the crowd. Despite the exhaustion from the three days long train ride, he rushed to Laurent. He dropped his bags to the floor and hugged his husband by the waist, lifting him up so Laurent’s lips would be exactly at the same height of his own.

Their kiss was long, sweet and, above all, necessary. As a couple, they did not show affection in public all that much. Damen was warmer and did not mind, but Laurent preferred to be discreet. Even so, there was Laurent, pushing his tongue past Damen’s lips and grabbing his hair in the middle of the most crowded train station in Arles, with his brother standing awkwardly right next to them.

Auguste gave them quite some time, but realizing their reunion might take a while he decided to intervene. He coughed loudly and squeezed his two hands between their bodies, forcing them apart. Without much room for protests, Damen put Laurent on the ground, but did not let go of him. They giggled at Auguste’s intervention, while Damen still kept Laurent in his arms and caressing his cheek with his thumb. Laurent bit his lower lip to contain a smile.

“Oh my! Look at your bags on the floor, Damen!” Auguste stated in a falsely exasperated tone and pushed himself between the couple to pick up the bags on the other side, forcing them apart. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” Laurent held Damen’s hand and pulled him to follow Auguste.

They got into the car and, as usual, Damen and Auguste got excited about some brutish sport they both enjoyed. For now, Laurent was happy just sitting on the back, beside his husband, holding his hand. Whenever Damen was not making great hand gestures to express his excitement, that is.

Reaching the apartment Auguste helped Damen settle in, and in ten minutes he was gone, allegedly “going to buy dinner ingredients”, despite having more than enough for them at the apartment. Auguste insisted on it and made it very clear he “would return in about two hours”. Damen and Laurent did not need further instructions, considering there was a supermarket only two blocks away.

As they walked into their bedroom Damen locked the door, just to be safe, and Laurent pulled his face to his own neck, requesting attention for the spot. Damen gladly obliged, kissing and licking Laurent’s neck just the way he liked it.

“I missed you so much.” Damen confessed between muffled kisses.

“I missed you too.” Laurent shyly admitted, entwining his fingers on Damen’s hair. “Now, fuck me.”

Damen laughed warmly as he fell on the bed, over Laurent.

“You could be a little more romantic, you know?” Damen mocked, sitting on his heels between Laurent’s legs.

“And you could stop talking and just fuck me like I asked you to.” Laurent smirked, removing his own shirt. “The last time we did something similar to fucking was on the phone, and let me tell you, it doesn’t even compare to the real thing.”

Damen let out a breath of amusement and whispered against Laurent’s ear.

“Then let me show you the real thing.”

 

\-------------

 

Auguste returned two hours later with the groceries and a stomach filled with junk food. He put everything on its place and started searching for Laurent’s kitchen utensils. It took a few moments before Damen left the bedroom, completely and absolutely naked. Auguste flushed violently, dropped a knife and turned his eyes to the ceiling.

“Oh, hi Auguste.” Damen rose the corner of his mouth and waved a hand at him.

“Oh, hey, Damen. H-How-Huh-How are you?” Auguste kept his eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” Damen himself was flushing from the way Auguste did.

“N-Nothing. Huh, we’re not really used to being naked in front of others.” Auguste said.

“Oh. Sorry! I forgot, I’m so sorry. I’m putting on some clothes.” Damen rushed into the room and reached for some underwear he found near the door.

“No. Please, it’s your home.” Auguste laughed awkwardly.

“No, not at all!” Damen rushed to put on his boxers. Auguste did not have the heart to tell him this was still somewhat indecent for Veretians.

Damen scratched his nape and gently closed the door after leaving Laurent covered from neck to toe on the bed, without letting Auguste look inside. They awkwardly started to prepare dinner for the three of them. The silence was awkward for over twenty minutes before Auguste finally decided to break the ice.

“Okay, let me to understand something.” He started and Damen turned in his direction. “You have no problem with being naked in front of me, but you hide Laurent like I was not supposed to know you two were having sex. I mean, you do realize I left the apartment so you could do _just that_ , right?”

“I-Hm,” Damen flushed a little and took a ladle from the bottom of a long drawer. “Oh, here it is.”

Damen handed the ladle to Auguste, but did not look him in the eyes.

“Well, sex is different. And being naked has nothing to to with it. I mean, you get naked for baths for example, and there is nothing sexual about it. But isn’t it strange? I mean, if I lay there, naked, next to your equally naked brother...”

“I can’t see the problem in that.” Auguste chuckled, cutting up the meat. 

“See? I don’t get you Veretians either. You talk about sex all the time, I mean, Laurent has quite the mouth on him.”

Auguste laughed warmly at that.

“He sure does.”

“And then you see me naked and it’s like you’ve caught me making love to your brother!” Damen laughed and Auguste accompanied him. 

“First of all, it’s so cute to see a big and buff guy like you saying ‘making love’ instead of, I dunno...” Auguste took a moment to ponder his next words. “‘Balls deep’.”

“Oh my God!” Damen laughed and placed his hand on his face from the second-hand embarrassment of hearing those words. A part of him thought he had misunderstood. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Probably.” Auguste chuckled. “But, well, sex is just sex. It doesn’t even need feelings involved. But showing off your body is not something we do. Perhaps it’s because Vere is very cold, so we grew accustomed to it to the point it became part of our society?”

“Hm, that would be plausible.” Damen nodded.

Another long silence took over, much more pleasant than the previous. Damen and Auguste worked in sync and Damen could see a few of Laurent’s gestures in his brother-in-law. Damen felt grateful for having spent so long learning his way around a kitchen from Laurent. For someone who spent his whole life having exquisite food from particular chefs being handed to him on a silver platter, Damen now judged himself worthy of holding a knife.

“I’m glad he found you.” Auguste said in a whisper and Damen was taken from his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

Auguste smiled softly and stirred the contents of the pan.

 

\-------------

 

It was one of the hottest days of the year in Vere and Damen sat on the ground, fixing their broken television using internet tutorials.

“This isn't working.” Laurent said, his eyes roaming across the bills spread out on the table. “We can't pay for electricity this month unless we use our savings. I can’t ask my brother for more money.”

“I'm trying, Laurent.” Damen answered, perhaps a little more crudely than necessary. “You know I go out everyday and try to find work. I have been for months. No one will hire me.”

“Yes, of course. I know that. All I'm saying is,” Laurent sighed. “Perhaps we should move to Akielos.”

“What!?” Damen turned his attention from the television to Laurent’s bright head.

“Damen, let's face it: You're not getting a job here because you're Akielon.” Laurent stated. “If we move you'll get a much more stable job than my current one. Your friend Nikandros said he knew someone who would hire you, did he not? And I can keep my own job, but instead of working for a firm, I'll be doing online freelance jobs or something. No one will be denying my white face works if they never see it.”

“And what will you do at supermarkets, at stores, or anywhere we go when people look at you like-”

“Like they look at you here? Damen, I told you before: I don't care. They can call me names, give me Residency Cards or be highly offended about my relationship with you all they want. I won't leave you.”

“It's not about leaving. Is about people hating you because of where you were born.”

“Do _you_ think less of me because of that? Because of the country I was born, or the language I speak, or the color of my skin?” Laurent rose; his form unintentionally seductive as he approached Damen.

“You know I don't.” Damen sighed.

“Then let them speak. Let them whine.” Laurent’s hands found their way to Damen’s nape and brought himself to his knees and into kissing distance. “And when they do, we'll make sure to be as entwined as a chocolate and vanilla twist cone.”

Damen laughed warmly at that and Laurent smirked.

“A chocolate and vanilla twist cone.” Damen repeated in amusement.

“See? I can be funny too.” Laurent mocked.

“This was the weirdest and, somehow, cutest description of us I have ever heard.”

“I know.” Laurent took the liberty of pushing the television to the side and throwing himself on Damen’s lap before planting a kiss on his lips. “Please think about it. I want a future with you in which we _live_ , not just survive.”

Laurents fingertips brushed Damen's cheek and lips as he spoke. Damen sighed, caressing Laurent's nose with his own, holding him in his arms.

“I will. I promise.”

 

\-------------

 

Nikandros was a good friend. He welcomed Damen into his house when he needed so. He accepted Damen's Veretian husband and gladly lent them a room.

And since he spent some of his days on military quarters, sometimes it felt like Damen and Laurent had a house of their own and they could not help wishing for it to be true someday.

Laurent would clean Nikandros's house and take translation works on the side while his husband — who had accepted the job Nikandros's friend had offered — worked at a company downtown. When Damen got home, he and Laurent would rest on the couch for around thirty minutes before preparing dinner together.

“Will Nikandros be home tonight?” Laurent asked, stirring the frying pan.

“Hm, yeah. He should be here soon, actually.” Damen said, chopping vegetables. His eyes glanced up at the clock on the wall before answering.

“I see. By the way, I was looking at the papers and I think there's a house we can afford.”

“Really?” Damen turned to face his husband.

Laurent transferred the contents of the pan to a bowl and placed it on the table. He took the news paper from the counter and showed it to Damen. It was a small apartment, but it was more than enough for them. The rent was cheap and about the same distance from work as Nikandros's suburban house was. It was still not ideal, but there was public transportation.

“That looks very nice.” Damen said, nodding. “We could go see it Saturday.”

“All right.” Laurent nodded once and took the paper, along with a slice of freshly cut tomato, which he ate.

Nikandros returned home about ten minutes later. Damen and Laurent were setting up the table to eat. They sat together and Nikandros approved of their choice for a new home. Damen held Laurent's hand, excited and with a foolish smile across his lips.

After dinner, Laurent brushed his teeth and went to bed. Nikandros took a shower and Damen prepared his lunch for the next day before brushing his teeth.

“You're really going through with this?” Nikandros asked, wearing boxers and drying his hair with a towel.

“Hm? What?” Damen asked, holding his toothbrush between his lips. He looked at Nikandros through the mirror on the bathroom.

“Laurent. Are you sure about all this?” Nikandros kept his eyes on the floor, leaning against the wall. His towel rested on his shoulders.

“Of course I am. We are married, Nikandros.”

“Damen, you married for a visa. Let's be honest here.”

“It wasn't-” Damen sighed. “It wasn't _just_ for the visa. It was because me not being in Vere meant us being apart. I married Laurent because I love him.”

Nikandros said nothing and placed the towel back on the rack. He took his shirt and slid into it.

“I'm just trying to make sure you don't plunge yourself into an abyss from which you cannot come back from.”

“And what abyss would that be, Nikandros?”

“You know the answer. How many Akielon-Veretian couples are there besides you two? Ten? Or less?” Nikandros finally looked Damen in the eyes, through their reflection. “We don't marry those who have been our enemies since the beginning of times. Marriage freedom, exchange student programs, adoptions between nations, everything you were granted can be taken from you if war starts again. And you can bet it will. This pathetic attempt of an alliance will not last for long.”

Damen sighed, his hands against the sink supporting the weight of his torso.

“Not only that,” Nikandros started once more, crossing his arms. “You'll face hate. Lot's of it. People will call you names. 'Corpse fucker'...”

“I don't care. I love Laurent and I'll be with him. And if anyone dares to offend him,” Damen squeezed the marble sink, his heart filling up with rage.

“You'll keep it to yourself, because no jury will let you walk free for defending your Veretian husband's honor.” Nikandros said, his arms crossed. “You see the problem? You two are not _supposed_ to be together.”

“Yet we are.” Damen turned to finally face Nikandros. “And we will be.”

Nikandros let out a long sigh and threw his head back, resting it on the cold wall behind him.

“All right then. I just hope everything works out for you.”

“I will make it work.” Damen pushed himself away from the sink and headed back to his room.

A simple shirt tried to cover Laurent’s pale limbs, slightly curved from the lack of space. Damen and Laurent had placed the two single beds from Nikandros’ guest room together, hoping to create a larger bed for them to share.

Damen’s clothes were left pooled on the floor as he took them off and lay beside his husband. He placed a kiss on Laurent’s shoulder as he pulled him closer, spooning him. Laurent acknowledged his husband’s presence by holding the hand resting against his own chest. Damen smiled at that.

“I love you.” He whispered and Laurent did not reply. Yet Damen could feel his heart beating faster against his hand. Damen smiled at that too.

 

\-------------

 

The wedding ceremony was nothing but a mere formality. More than that, it was a whim; a small gesture of self-indulgence they could now afford. It was a humble and charming ceremony, made just for the two of them and a few friends and family; which had brought Damen to the big, luxurious mansion in which he had been raised. Damen imagined his mind had played tricks on him and that the actual house was not as large as he remembered, but it was. And gorgeous as well. His heart ached, wondering if, one day, he would be able to give Laurent a house like that.

Holding his husband's hand, Damen rang the doorbell and a maid opened the door. With eyes wide and a clear expression of restrained excitement, she allowed him to wait inside, by the door, while she called for his father. The interior was somewhat different from when he left. Some new furniture here and there and a brand new color on the walls. Damen’s eyes rested on the stairs as his father came down. His father seemed much older despite having aged only five or six years. Theomedes stopped and his eyes jumped from Damen to Laurent to the maid. He frowned.

“You let a Veretian into my house?”

The maid seemed confused.

“S-Sir, Damianos-”

“I don’t care who he’s accompanying! You do not let Veretians into this house! You should be fired for this.”

The maid widened her eyes, her mouth hanging open and trembling.

“Dad, please. Don’t be like that. We just came to talk.”

“That thing talks?”

“I most certainly do.” Laurent spoke, in the most perfect Akielon Damen had ever heard.

Still somewhat surprised from Laurent’s almost imperceptible accent, Damen approached the stairs and handed a small envelope to Theomedes. His father stared at the envelope, almost disgusted by its very existence.

“What the hell is this?”

“An invitation. Laurent and I will be having our wedding ceremony and we would love if you could come. Please, at least consider it.”

“I won’t. Leave.” Damen knew that expression. His father was furious.

“Dad, please. This is ridiculous. At least talk to him, give him a chance. This is the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with. Can’t you at least try to get to know him?”

“You want me to know him? Very well. You!” Theomedes turned to Laurent, who kept his expression serene. “Tell me, is this really your color or are you just covered in come like the cheap Veretian whore that you are?”

Damen’s jaw dropped, the maid’s eyes widened, but Laurent’s expression did not change. In fact, as calmly as he had spoken before, he answered.

“Oh, no, it’s my natural color. But you have no reason to worry. If it was come, it would be your son’s.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you!?” Damen finally was able to speak. His frozen brain had finally began to work again. His muscles trembled and clenched, trying to hold himself back while all he wanted was to punch his father, something he had never considered doing. “Are you insane!? How can you say that to my husband!?”

“Thought you were inviting me to your disgusting wedding.” Theomedes mocked.

“We got married in a Veretian city hall, but our wedding will be here in Akielos.” Laurent said as if he had not just been completely humiliated by Damen’s father. His accent had become more evident, though.

He took the invitation from Damen’s shaking hands with swift, elegant movements and offered it to Theomedes. Watched by the piercing gaze of his father-in-law, Laurent placed the disregarded invitation on a small table, under a flower vase. Turning back to Damen, Laurent took his hand and placed a kiss on it.

“Shall we go?” Laurent asked.

Damen watched his father’s stern expression and sighed.

“He’s the reason you’re still invited. If you dare to say a single word about him ever again, I will kick you out of our wedding just like you kicked me out of this house.”

Damen squeezed Laurent’s hand and slammed the door as they left together. He wanted to say something, to let Laurent know how sorry he was to have put him through all of this, but words could never express that.

“I’ll drive, give me the keys.” Laurent requested.

“Laurent, I-”

“Damen, the keys. It’s done. Let it go.” Laurent insisted and took the liberty of reaching into Damen’s pocket to take the keys.

The ride home was silent. Overall, Laurent did not seem affected by the whole ordeal, but Damen could distinguish the small details that showed how frustrated Laurent truly was. He was too quiet, his jaw clenched and his movements much rougher than usual. Yet, Laurent had a tendency to keep things to himself, and he did so quite well until they lay together in bed that night.

“Laurent, about today...”

“Damen, I don’t want to discuss it. Stop insisting.”

Damen sighed, pushing Laurent’s hair behind his ear. With a whispered apology, he kissed Laurent’s lips and held his hand. They slept a few minutes later.

When Damen woke up again, the moon was still high above in the sky, shining trough the thin curtains of their bedroom. Laurent was gone, so Damen checked the clock on the nightstand. Two thirty four. Damen was about to get up when he heard the faint sound of water running in the bathroom. It was too dark to see when the door opened and revealed Laurent’s shape, rubbing his cheeks. Damen judged it to be a spontaneous gesture until Laurent approached the bed. The moonlight revealed his swollen eyes and flushed cheeks. Guilt pierced Damen’s heart like a thick sword.

Laurent sat on the bed and, lost in the thoughts roaming through his head, did not even realize Damen was awake. Laurent lay with his back towards his husband and tried to sleep. Damen pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. A hand slipped under Laurent’s shirt, close to his heart before lips touched his neck.

“I love you. More than anything in this world.” Damen told him in a whisper.

Laurent’s heart beat fast against his hand and, from their position, Damen could feel Laurent’s body stiffening. When Laurent’s hands reached Damen’s, his fingers were still damp.

“I’ll be with you for the rest of my life, no matter what. I’ll always be there for you. You are absolutely perfect, in every single aspect. I could never find someone as wonderful as you are.”

Damen held Laurent tight enough to keep his body from twitching out of the effort to hold back his tears. Laurent squeezed Damen's hand and covered his own mouth, restraining his sobs. 

 

\-------------

 

It was around eight years after they had first met that the subject of children came up. It happened suddenly, during their anniversary trip to Vask. They sat at a restaurant, eating traditional delicacies along with their tour group.

“These are even better than the fake ones we buy at the stores in Vere.” Laurent commented, stuffing himself on sweets.

“I’m sure they are, too bad I couldn’t have a single one.” Damen mocked.

“Oh, stop being dramatic.”

Laurent licked his fingers and Damen got somewhat annoyed at how Laurent could make even that look sensual and, above all, classy. Not a single person around them seemed to mind. Not even the Vaskian women.

“No, you literally ate all the sweets.” Damen pointed at the empty plates in front of them.

“Oh.” Laurent actually did not seem to realize it, but Damen forgave him. It was not the first time and would not be the last. “Well, let’s order more, then.”

Laurent shrugged and proceeded to order a few more sweets using the basic Vaskian he had learned as a child. The waitress left and Laurent turned back to Damen. They drank some of the tea and commented on it before Laurent finally quit stalling.

“So, I have been thinking.” He started and Damen looked up from his tea cup. “After this trip, we’ll have done pretty much everything in our bucket list.”

“That’s true.” Damen said.

“I think it would be appropriate for us to make a new list.” Laurent looked at Damen from behind his cup; piercing blue eyes certainly hiding second intentions.

“All right. What do you suggest?” Damen chuckled, eating a cracker that had been ignored by Laurent’s vicious eating spree.

“I want a child.”

It was so honest and sudden Damen chocked on his cracker. Damen had never thought about having children, much less after the way things ended with his father. It was not as if Damen _despised_ them, but he did not have the proper skills to _handle_ them. And, as far as Damen was aware of, children did not like him either.

Laurent, however, was already a father. He was meant to be one. Laurent would look at children in parks, would discreetly call Damen’s attention for cute babies he saw on the street and even briefly talk or play with children when approached by them.

“Hm, okay. Huh-Are you sure-”

“I’m sure.” Laurent replied instantly. “What about you?”

Damen held back a laugh. Laurent continued to peek at him from behind his cup, but now his strong eyes had become wide and eager, like a child waiting for approval to go out and play. Damen had sworn to make Laurent happy on their wedding vows and he made that his main goal. If Laurent wanted a child, he would get one. For him, Damen would do anything.

 

\-------------

 

Two summers and a winter passed before they were finally blessed with a healthy – perhaps way too healthy – six year old called Pallas. The name sounded strange, yet pleasing to Laurent’s Veretian ears. On the other hand, Laurent’s yellow hair seemed unbelievable to Pallas’s Akielon eyes. The boy had asked if there was pollen on it and was baffled to learn it was nothing but its natural color.

“Are you sure?” Pallas asked, displaying the wide space between his front teeth. “Because it really looks just like pollen! You know, I read in a book that bees carry pollen from one flower to the other and that's how they make other flowers!”

“I see.” Laurent said, holding Pallas' hand as they walked down the street. “That is very interesting, sweetheart. But I swear, my hair is really yellow.”

“Lemme check!” Pallas asked, stretching his little arms.

Laurent chuckled and crouched in front of him. Pallas tried scrubbing Laurent's hair, but it was still as yellow as the buttercups on the neighbors garden.

“It's really yellow!” Pallas said to Damen as if he had just found a unicorn.

“Yes, it is.” Damen chuckled. “Now, why don't we go home so you can see your room?”

Pallas's eyes shone upon that thought. He held back his smile and the three of them went home, holding hands. Pallas talked. And talked. And talked some more all the way home. But as soon as he saw his room he went silent. His eyes widened and he held back a shout, his cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement. Laurent crouched to speak to him.

“Do you like your room?”

“Is it,” Pallas hesitated and swallowed loudly. “Is it really mine?”

“Yes, darling, of course it is.” Laurent replied.

“Will I sleep here? And you'll read me a bed time story?” Pallas said with hopeful eyes that made Laurent’s heart melt inside his chest.

“Sure. If you wish so.” Laurent smiled kindly at him.

“And you'll-” Pallas hesitated, playing with his fingers and looking around. “You'll never return me?”

Laurent and Damen’s eyes widened and they looked at each other. Pallas had been adopted before, at one year old, by a couple who did not want kids as much as they wanted a little robot. So by the age of three, had been abused enough to be taken away from them and returned to the orphanage. The social worker had mentioned how the couple had threatened to return him several times for being “such an awful little boy”.

“Pallas, listen.” Laurent said, holding both his hands. “We will never, ever give you back. You are our son and we love you. We might get angry, we might scold you, but we will never, ever, ever return you. You are ours now and forever. Do you hear me?” Laurent pinched Pallas's cheek with gentleness and caressed his head.

“Then can I call you dad?” Pallas asked, with the hint of a pout.

“You can call me whatever you want.”

Pallas smiled widely and turned to Damen.

“You too?”

“Of course, son. Anytime you like.” Damen said and crouched as well, copying Laurent’s behavior.

Pallas gave each of them a tight hug and, like his restraint had been turned off, shouted his way into his room. He checked every toy on the chest, every item he found interesting and made sure to ask if it was really his for each one of them. By the end of the day, Damen read Pallas a story, while Laurent lay on the bed with their son. Pallas struggled against sleep, but finally succumbed to it after an hour or so. Laurent slid out of the bed, careful not to wake him up and left the room.

Reaching their own room, Laurent closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Damen pulled him by the waist and held him, caressing his head. A few kisses were exchanged before looks.

“We have a child.” Laurent had a wide, unrestrained smile on his face. His hands rested on Damen’s lower back.

“We do.” Damen's heart skipped a bit from Laurent's smile.

“That little boy _our son_.” Laurent laughed.

“He is.” Damen nodded and laughed along.

Damen was afraid at first and, perhaps, having a child was partially so he could put that very smile on Laurent's face. But now that he had met Pallas, had seen him talking and felt his tiny hand squeezing his own he could honestly understand it had been the right thing to do. Pallas had crawled his way into Damen’s heart in a single day and Damen was sure he would be proud to be his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, it's done! This was one of the hardest chapters to write, tbh. Not only the rougher scenes, but also the characterization was a challenge, specially for Theomedes. Since we really don't know much about him, it's hard to imagine his reaction if Damen had the chance to introduce Laurent to him. I used the canon comments about him as a base (I actually read them again lol), and I hope I have managed to keep him and everyone else somewhat in character (Even though I probably had to make him meaner for plot reasons...) (;ω;) 
> 
> Anyways, thank you very much for reading! The next chapter will be posted on the 1st, as usual! (´ω｀*)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Look at me not updating at the last second of the day!  
> Well, I hope you like it!

From the inside of the camps it was difficult to know what happened outside. Laurent would sometimes listen to the guards conversations, but in general they were nothing more than pathetic gossips about who fucked who and their opinions regarding the physical appearances of some of the Veretians. The reviews were always either bad or focused on a single body part. _He has a nice ass._ , _That one had nice tits._ , _That one seems hung._ ; among other so called “compliments”. Until one day, about a year after Veretians and half-breeds had been taken. The residents of the barracks were woken up by the usual loud horn, but instead of being ordered to form a line and taken to the mess hall, they had been gathered in the yard.

“Listen up.” A soldier, different from one of the usual guards started. “From now on, I will call for your Identification Numbers. If you hear it, come forward.”

Having said that, the same soldier started shouting sequential numbers. One after another, Veretians gathered and were left standing, side by side, until there were around twenty. An ill feeling took over Laurent, but before he could order Nicaise to turn around or close his eyes, twenty Veretian bodies had hit the ground.

The crowd reacted with silence for over two seconds before someone shrieked. Another two or three cries, followed by people dropping to their knees in despair and children, infants wailing loudly.

The machine-gun had been so fast Laurent – among many others – did not have time to react. He felt Nicaise’s grip tightening on his hand and dared to look down. Nicaise was not crying. His eyes were big and terrified, in a way Laurent had never seen before. Laurent knelt and hugged him, but Nicaise did not seem to have enough strength to reciprocate.

“It’s all right. Everything will be all right.” Laurent’s hand slid across Nicaise’s back several times. “We’re fine. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Nicaise did not reply, but weakly wrapped his arms around Laurent’s neck.

“Daddy, I want to go home.”

Nicaise pleaded and Laurent did not have the time to reply before the soldier ordered them to form a line and head to the mess hall for breakfast. Part of Laurent was glad he did, so it could spare him of explaining why returning home was not an option for them and spare his son of seeing the guards taking pictures of the fresh corpses. Laurent understood war had now started on the outside as well. No more play of words and threats. From now on, the cards on the table would be tainted with blood.

 

\-------------

 

After a year and a half, Damen had gotten used to the words written on his walls. With war taking place, authorities had bigger issues to worry about than vandals. And with those who could have taken offense gone, Damen’s hopes to sue his neighbors had been dismissed by his lawyer. He walked into his house and found Pallas studying on the dining room table. Damen greeted him and took a shower before sitting beside his son. He helped Pallas with some of his homework and they prepared dinner together.

With time, their lives had slowly returned to as normal as they could get. And yet, there always seemed to be a ghost of the rest of their family, haunting the environment with pain and sorrow. They turned on the television to watch the news as they had done every night. There were news of bombings in cities around Ios and another one right on the border between Ios and the neighboring city of Kesus.

Damen’s family lived in an upscale neighborhood of the capital, but he understood money would have little influence during war times. The government could not stop a plane from dropping a bomb over their house at any given moment simply because they were rich. It did not work like that.

Pallas sat on the couch, apathetic to the news. His change had happened on the anniversary of the Veretian Purge. Pallas came home after a fight, in complete silence. His rivals had a couple bruises, but Pallas had been beaten up enough to cause the offenders to be instantly expelled. After that incident, Pallas no longer spoke or smiled like he used to. Damen worried, fearing his son had become depressive enough not to care even if a bomb fell on their heads. Yet, he did not know what else he could do. He had found three different therapists for Pallas, but nothing seemed to make him say more than a few sentences, specially when the bad days would come.

Damen went to work the next day pondering about this issue. He also never understood why his Patran boss continued to live in Akielos, despite the war. Even if he had to recreate his company from scratch it seemed like a better prospective than waiting quietly for a bomb to come, while having the possibility to leave.

“Damen, you’ve been distracted today.” The CEO had said, after the board meeting.

“Sorry. I-” Damen shook his head and rubbed his face. “It’s my son. He doesn’t seem to be adjusting well to our situation. I mean, none of us are, of course, but he seems to be having more trouble dealing with it.”

“I see.” His boss replied, nodding slowly in thought.

“What about you, Torveld? If I may ask, and I hope this is not out of place, but why are you still here?” Damen asked.

Torveld sighed, sitting on the table and supporting himself with his arms. Damen finished organizing his papers and put them into his briefcase.

“I can’t just leave the company. We were one of the few that did not fall apart with the war and, well, I’m just the CEO of this subsidiary, you see. So, in the end, just like you all answer to me, I still have to answer to my brother.”

Damen did not believe him one bit and it showed on his face. Torveld rolled his eyes and placed his hand over his mouth for a moment.

“Come with me for a second.” Torveld said and headed with Damen to the building’s rooftop.

Torveld had one hand in his pocket and other one running through his hair. Damen waited, unsure of why they had come there. Torveld inhaled deeply and started:

“Listen, you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, please. I’ve helped you, I’ve given you a lot, all I ask in return is for you to keep this a secret.”

“Huh-Yes. I guess.” Damen furrowed his brows at such request.

“I have a lover.” Torveld said.

“A lover? That’s not a crime, why are you so nervous?” Damen asked.

“It’s not so simple. He’s much younger than me, you see. People would talk.”

“...How much younger?” Damen would keep a secret, but he would definitely not endorse what Torveld was suggesting.

“No!” Torveld turned quickly, widened eyes and a hand shaking in front of his body. “Nothing like that! I mean, there’s a big age difference but nothing illegal. He was twenty when I met him and it was completely consensual! And the presents I give him are simply… Presents. I give them out of love, not expecting anything in return. I swear.”

“Okay. I see.” Damen let out a sigh of relief. “But what does this have to do with anything? He could go to Patras with you, right? I mean, it could be done under the rug.”

“That’s the problem.” Torveld let out a sorrowful scoff at Damen’s ignorance. “He’s been taken.”

“To the camps!?” Damen widened his eyes. “Veretian?”

“Mixed.” Torveld admitted. “I can’t leave the country and abandon him. I’m not some uncaring sugar daddy of his... I’m a loving sugar daddy.”

Torveld said after a pause and let out a chuckle, which Damen reciprocated. They stood in silence for a while before Damen spoke:

“Hey, why don’t you come have dinner at our place?” He suggested. “No one needs to know, so they don’t think you’re favoring me. Just a dinner to take your mind off things.”

“It might be nice. Thank you.” Torveld smiled. “Oh, and I’ll try to talk to a friend of mine to find some help for your boy.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, Torveld.” Damen smiled.

“How old is he again?” Torveld said, heading back to the inside of the building.

“About to turn eighteen.” Damen said.

“Wow. Eighteen. I remember the first time he came to the office. What was he? Six? Your husband became very sick all of a sudden and he came with you. Excited little thing.” Torveld laughed.

“Again, I’m so sorry for that.” Damen ran a hand across his face. “You see, Nicaise has the temper, but Pallas was the only one so far we sometimes wish he had a ‘turn off’ button.”

They laughed.

“I can see why. My friends at the fire department still mock me for being called over a burning trashcan.”

“He meant well, I swear.”

It was not a lie. Pallas had simply thrown away a cigarette stub he had found on the balcony. The thought of throwing a fire hazard into a trashcan filled with flammable office materials had not even crossed his simplistic, childish mind.

Damen and Torveld returned to work somewhat more relaxed. Memories of the past being the few things that could keep their minds away from the hardships of war.

 

\-------------

 

The executions happened from time to time, without schedule. Laurent assumed it was part of the games played at war: If one country acted, the other reacted. Photos and videos of corpses would probably be “leaked” and the cycle would restart.

But games played with lives do not simply affect those directly involved. Laurent knew that all too well from watching Nicaise. If not for the day he had lost a tooth – Which became the most interesting event in everyone else’s day as well - the boy would spend his days in unnatural silence, and nights were not any easier. Laurent woke up, feeling Nicaise slide out of the bed and pace around the bunk bed they slept on. Everyone else slept and the guards did not mind a little movement, though Laurent was sure they had their eyes on Nicaise at this point. Nicaise sat down on the ground after a few minutes and stared at the moon through the window with a vacant expression.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” Laurent asked.

“The fairy won’t come all the way here, will she?” Nicaise asked.

Before Laurent could reply, someone approached them and Laurent rose his head. Instead of a soldier, if was another Veretian. An older man to whom Laurent had exchanged a few words. Outside, he was a doctor. In the camps, he worked in the incinerators and always looked dirty and reeked. During the night, visits were not allowed, but some guards were too sleepy and uninterested to care, so they just kept an eye on the visitors and forbid long conversations.

“Nothing yet?” Paschal asked.

“No.” Nicaise answered, knowing he should save up his words.

“That’s too bad. May I try something?” Paschal asked, offering his hand.

Nicaise gave Paschal his tooth, a suspicious expression on his face. Paschal bent his neck to both sides, shook his arms and put his hands together blowing on the small space between them. Nicaise rose a cocky eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his body.

“Here.” Paschal offered him the tooth back. “I put a spell on it so the fairy will come sooner.”

“Yeah, right.” Nicaise mocked and lay on the bed again.

“She might a couple days, though. This place is hard to find.”

Laurent and Paschal exchanged looks before Paschal returned to his bed. Laurent waited a few minutes for Nicaise to sleep before marching up to Paschal’s bed. The soldier started to get suspicious and hold his gun firmly, threatening to use it. Laurent rose his hands and nodded at him, acknowledging his authority.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He whispered.

Paschal sat up, calmly looking into Laurent’s eyes.

“I know you’re not getting him anything, so stop filling my son’s heart with false hope.” Laurent said and returned to bed.

Except he did. Laurent woke up a couple days later, before the alarm, feeling someone touching Nicaise’s pillow. As he opened his eyes and instinctively grabbed the person’s arm, he found the Paschal at the end of it. In his hand, there was a small car made out of wood.

Paschal rose his index finger in front of his mouth, so Laurent would be quiet and allow him to place the car under Nicaise’s pillow. Laurent pushed Nicaise’s hair behind his ear and held him close.

“Thank you.” He whispered at Paschal, who left with a gentle smile.

When Nicaise woke up, he could barely believe his eyes. He stared at the small car with hopeful eyes. The skeptical ten year old, suddenly replaced for a starry-eyed five year old. Outside, Nicaise might have paid no mind to such a boring toy, but inside the camps, it held a different meaning. 

“Look, dad, it worked! The tooth fairy really brought it for me!” Nicaise smiled widely.

“I can see that! She’s very thoughtful.”

Laurent said and glanced at Paschal’s bed for a moment. The man slept as if he had not been responsible for Nicaise’s happiness.

 

\-------------

 

As the two years after the purge passed it became harder and harder for Laurent’s mind to remind itself of the date. It took him five, ten minutes to remember each day before being sent to the mess hall. He walked slowly and his body did not have enough energy to sustain itself. The parade of Veretians dragged itself like walking corpses, hoping to receive a little more than a spoonful of the disgusting food they were given. Laurent thought it to be ironic, how Akielons would always call Veretians living corpses and now that was exactly what they had become.

Nicaise sat beside his father to eat and Laurent noticed he could see his son’s bones through the skin. He wondered if he looked the same. Loyse was the only person that showed a delicate swallow in her belly, but it was not from the food in her stomach. Laurent and other few people gathered to give her some of their food, but with all they could give there was not even a spoon of extra food in her plate.

“Thank you, everyone. Really, you don’t have to.” She was grateful, yet ashamed to take it.

“We can’t let our youngest starve.” Laurent said and forced a smile, glancing at Loyse’s belly.

There was a sense of family that grew with that child. It felt like it was not just Loyse and Guion’s, but a child born from all of the Veretians from that barrack. Laurent wondered if Théodore had been receiving the same treatment in the half-breed barracks. Then he forced himself not to think of it. It hurt too much to imagine a two, almost three year old Théodore.

Breakfast soon came to an end and they were taken to the yard, which was now as cold as it could be in Akielos. Laurent loved the weather, but feared for the little ones who could not protect themselves from the cold yet. They had an hour in the sun, then they worked, – including Nicaise, who had already turned ten – and bathed before having dinner and returning to the barracks. When the lights were turned off, Laurent lay on his bed, holding Nicaise, who lazily played with his toy for a few minutes. Laurent made an effort to remember the date as he cuddled with Nicaise to sleep.

 

\-------------

 

The next day came and, along with the usual screeching siren, the soldier who called their names waited for them outside. There would be another execution, and at that point people were more than used to it. Those called hesitated to approach and the guards had to physically pull them away from their family and friends and throw them to the ground, where they, sometimes, had to be tie up. A few cried, other simply watched their families do so. One of the mothers refused to let go of her wailing toddler, and received a rough beating in return.

Laurent spent the whole time selfishly repeating in his head _Not us. Not us. Not us._ Yet his wishes did not usually come true. He had wished for a happy life with Damen, and they had suffered countless times before ending up separated. He had wished for three sons and now he was left with only one. And as soon as the guard started reciting the fourth number sequence, Laurent understood he too would be taken from him. He glanced up at Nikandros’s window and found closed curtains. He was alone.

“Next. Number 1. 5. 0. 4. 0. 7.” The soldier shouted and with each number Laurent’s heart broke.

Laurent used the line of people in front of him to discreetly pull off Nicaise’s identification badge, which displayed his number. Nicaise, who had become pale and wide eyed now had tears in his eyes.

“No! No, daddy, no!” Nicaise tried to stop Laurent from taking his own badge by holding his wrists.

“Nicaise, let go of me right now!” Laurent whispered roughly.

“No, Daddy! Please, don’t-!”

Before Nicaise could say anything else, Paschal approached them. With a swift movement he pulled Nicaise’s badge from Laurent’s hand and handed him his own.

“Paschal-!” Laurent started.

“1. 6. 0. 2.” The guard finished and Paschal, who had attached Nicaise’s badge to his uniform, rose his head as he approached the guards.

His posture was not of one who would soon be executed, but of someone who would be facing his enemies with pride. Laurent did not move, frozen in place. Paschal was kind, but sacrificing himself for a boy he barely knew made no sense. And yet, though Laurent understood his own selfishness, he could not help but to be relieved. Losing Nicaise like that was something he could not imagine himself going through.

He repeated that logic in his mind time and time again, hugging Nicaise and closing his own eyes so neither of them would have to see it happen. The gunshots came and were gone in a moment and everything returned to normal. Laurent made sure his and Nicaise’s badges were in place, disregarding his son’s tears. He kissed Nicaise’s cheeks several times and they headed to the mess hall, where almost all their food had been given to Loyse.

That night, Laurent saw Nicaise’s wiping more tears before sleep. Laurent invited him into his arms, but Nicaise refused, turning his back towards his father. Laurent hesitated, but took the liberty of laying behind his son and holding him firmly. He understood, then, what Damen felt like whenever Laurent needed him and just the simple thought of his own husband made him force his tears away. He needed to be the strong one this time.

 

\-------------

 

Damen had seen the government installing the sirens. Not once he had heard them ring, and hoped he would never have to. Even so, he and Pallas kept two small suitcases and a backpack close to the door. In them there were clothes and a few sentimental items. In Damen’s suitcase, there were a few pictures of the family, some clothes of his own one of Laurent’s favorite shirts. Day after day, the sweet smell of his husband slowly faded out, so he kept that one in a sealed bag, hoping to keep the memories alive. Inside Pallas’s, Nicaise’s and Théo’s favorite toys, along with Pallas’s clothes and personal items. Inside the backpack, they had provisions for any emergencies and a few more personal and daily items.

It was two in the morning and Damen was in the kitchen, trying to find sleep in a cup of warm milk, when the siren finally rang. It took him less than ten seconds to rush up the stairs and find his son. Pallas left his room with disheveled hair and wide eyes. There was no exchange of words between them; only feet stomping across cold floor as they rushed to put on overcoats and left.

There was a shelter two blocks away from their house. Damen and Pallas rushed to it, accompanied by their neighbors. There were children, pregnant women and elders, all rushing. The younger children were too slow, so their parents would carry them. Damen caught a glimpse of one of the elders – Damen recalled him very well for living down the street and cursing loudly at Nicaise whenever the boy passed in front of his house – struggling with his cane and case. The man was around a hundred years beyond his youth, mumbling curses at those who passed him.

“Can you carry two?” Damen asked Pallas.

“...Yes.” Pallas hesitated to reply before his hand slipped to the handler of Damen’s case.

“Excuse me, may I help you?” Damen asked, approaching the man.

Surprise was not enough to define the expression on the man’s face. Shock, perhaps could be more appropriate. He went quiet very suddenly before mumbling complaints Damen could not understand (Nor did he want to).

The weight of the elder’s bones was so light Damen carried him in one hand, carrying the man’s suitcase in other. As they got to the shelter, Damen helped him get down the stairs and went up and down several times to help the others who could not go down on their own.

It felt strange helping them. It was as though he was helping those who had sent his family away, who had wrote those terrible messages on his walls. And yet he knew he could not let them die out of spite. Hate took his family away, so he could not let it do the same to other families. No one deserved to lose their loved ones, no matter how awful they were. When he was done, Damen found a spot on the ground to sit beside his son. They distracted themselves from the situation and the stares with idle chatting.

When the first bomb came it was not as loud as they had imagined, and yet it made the whole room grew quiet. The muffled sound was far and the shaking of the ground was relatively mild. A few moments passed before the second bomb came. It hit the ground with a terrifying roar and the ground shook intensely. Pallas scooted closer to Damen and his fingers clawed around the handler of their suitcases. Damen put his arm around his son, holding his arm firmly. The sounds of the airplanes could also be heard, coming, leaving, then returning.

Damen thought of their house. The yard with a pool, in which the kids gathered to play; the hand-picked furniture for their living room; his room, in which he and Laurent had spent so many nights, conversations and intimacy. He wondered what he would find when he returned.

 

\-------------

 

Guion was executed not long before Aimeric was born. When it happened, Loyse’s health slowly began to deteriorate. A pregnancy is a long and, sometimes, difficult process. And inside the camps, without hope or resources, lacking food, proper medical care and having to go through traumatic experiences, Laurent was surprised to see Aimeric even born at all.

It had happened during the day, as they worked washing clothes. Loyse stopped, eyes wide and grabbed Laurent’s arm. The soldier approached, ready to send her back to work before she realized what was happening from seeing the small puddle under Loyse’s body.

“Shit.” The guard said. “Call the doctor, I think she’s in labor.”

Said the soldier, who approached, but did nothing to help. She simply stood, glancing at the door from time to time. The other left the room and called the doctor through his radio.

“Lay down, sweetheart.” Laurent said, wiping his hands on his shirt and positioning himself to help Loyse.

Other Veretians also moved, but the guard shouted at them to get back to work before they could help. Two sets of hands not working were bad enough, according to her. Laurent pretended not to listen, trying to calm Loyse down.

The doctor came a few moments later, calmly as if he was taking a stroll, chatting up with the guard who escorted him. Seeing Laurent’s expression, he seemed to realize his own lack of decency and his expression turned serious. He examined Loyse, who kept breathing, trying to keep herself calm.

“There’s still some time, but we should take her to the infirmary.” He told the soldier beside him and she reported Loyse’s absence through the radio.

After a confirmation from her superior, the guard allowed Loyse to be carried by the soldier who escorted the doctor. Not even a stretcher had been given to a woman in labor. Laurent tried to focus on his work so he would not get even more frustrated.

After work and a shower, Laurent returned to the barracks and found Loyse lying on her bed, holding her son. Laurent approached, along with some of the other Veretians. Aimeric was scrawny and tiny as could be, and everyone wanted to interact with him in some way. After a few minutes, Loyse actually lost track of her child.

“Where-Who has him?”

“Renée does. He’s fine, don’t worry. You can rest.” Laurent reassured her.

Loyse smiled softly, clearly much too pale for her own good. Laurent sat by her side and kept an eye on Aimeric for her.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent would be lying if he said that in the almost three years he had spent in the camps, he had never thought of escaping. He had thoroughly inspected the fences, examining its depth under the earth and the strength of its wires. Perhaps he could cut them somehow, but digging under it would be impossible and, above all, impractical for a hasty escape.

Laurent had also noticed the one guard named Calix who did not take his eyes of him. Laurent had received a few energy bars in exchange of seductive looks and the pretend of interest over the years. Of course, the bars were far from enough for him and Nicaise, but Laurent would never deny such a treat.

Even with all the schemes plotted perfectly in his mind, Laurent could never leave. Not while there was another one of his sons right across the fences. Laurent had tried to plot, to think of ways to take him, but it was easier to be outside than into the half-breed camp.

Until the incident with Paschal, Nikandros had kept his promise of keeping them safe, so Laurent would help his son endure the suffering of the camps to keep his other son alive. But now, it was different. Now, Laurent was choosing between Nicaise and Théodore. If he stayed, Nicaise might die starvation or be executed; if he left, Théodore would surely be killed in some sort of wicked punishment, or perhaps just to have one less mouth to feed. There was no choice for him. Either way, he would end up one son short.

Laurent thought of that as he headed towards the yard for his hourly rest under the sun. Laurent sat with his back against the wall, using a stick to draw tic-tac-toes on the dirt for them to play. Nicaise won and Laurent congratulated him with a high-five.

The game was merely a distraction, of course. For Nicaise it was a way to pass the time; for Laurent it was a way of entertaining his son while he carefully listened to the guards, hoping to get information from the outside world. He had preferred not to cross this line with Calix just yet, so it would not raise suspicion.

That day, Laurent was quite interested, specially, in the new truck, parked outside the camp. With the clock ticking, Laurent hoped the two guards beside them would get into it before the hour had passed. After over forty five minutes of irrelevant discussion over their guns, one of them finally decided to bring up the subject.

“Hey, you know what’s up with the trucks?”

“Oh, I think they’re here to take the half-breeds.” The other replied.

“Take where? The dump?” The first soldier laughed.

“No, man.” He chuckled. “I heard some Patran rich guy bought them.”

Laurent’s fingers struggled not to shake as he drew a circle on the bottom left corner.

“‘Bought’ them?”

“Yeah. I think it’s some human trafficking shit. Maybe he wants to fuck them or something.”

“Ugh, gross. Who would want to fuck a half-breed?”

“Well, some of the guys from their area seem to like them. I mean, some of them are kinda hot. That skinny, feisty one. Looks almost full Akielon. He’s doable.”

“True, true. Still, I’d rather fuck our own.” The soldier shrugged.

Laurent tried to focus on his game; the stick in his hand broke from being slowly bent. Nicaise looked up and seemed to finally realize what was happening. Still, he found Laurent another stick and drew a new board for them to restart.

“He’s little boyfriend being taken, by the way.”

“Hm? Whose boyfriend?”

“That half-breed you’re talking about. I hear he’s fucking some other half-breed, the white one, with the curls. He’s being sold.”

“Shit. Too bad for our half-breed fuckers across the fence.” The solider laughed, indicating the half-breed camp with his head. “Wait, but doesn’t he always have a kid? The weird one, with blue eyes?”

“Apparently he’s being taken too.”

“The kid? For real? Isn’t he like… Three?” The soldier asked, finally showing some compassion.

“Well, someone out there gotta like it. I still think it’s gross.”

“Wait, but can we do this? Like, sell, huh… Let’s call them, ‘people’?”

“Who’s gonna care? If we do something to Veretians, we piss of Vere, but who’s gonna care about a bunch of halfs?”

Laurent rose and took Nicaise’s hand. Their steps were slow and discreet as they approached the outside fence. Laurent crouched, taking a rock from the outside. It was not big, but it was enough.

“Listen to me, Nicaise. Stay here and do not get close to me no matter what happens.”

“Why? What are you gonna do?” Nicaise asked.

“Nicaise, please. I’m asking you to do as I say. I’ll be fine. You promise me?” Laurent offered Nicaise his pinky finger.

“Promise me you’ll be fine first.” Nicaise said, his head high and proud.

“I promise. I might get a little hurt, but I’ll be fine.” Laurent did the same and they joined their fingers, shaking them. “I love you.”

Laurent marched up to the middle of the yard, eyes on his target. The guards, previously resting lazily against the walls, now stood tense. Laurent glanced up, rose his hand and threw the rock across Nikandros’s window. In the back of his mind, he hoped he would hit him right on the head.

A soldier grabbed Laurent by his growing hair and other threw him to the ground. Around him, other soldiers pointed his guns at him. Laurent glanced up at the fence and found Nicaise. The boy’s fingers white in tension as he squeezed the wires, struggling not to move. The corner of Laurent’s mouth rose as he caught sight of Nikandros approaching, after having shouted at the soldiers to stop, from the window. Laurent felt proud for a single moment before the soldier hit him with the back of his gun.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent opened his eyes and saw the blurry image of Nikandros slowly coming to focus. Nikandros leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and expression of frustration made Laurent smirk.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Laurent mocked. As he tried to move, he realized his hands had been cuffed together and kept in place somehow.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you insane?” Nikandros asked.

“I wanted to talk to you. Now I can.” Laurent said.

“And now you’re going to get the beating of your life. Congratulations.”

“It’s worth it.”

“What did you need to talk to me so much that it was worth almost getting killed?”

“Now, I understand that you don’t give a fuck about me. But, tell me, how are you expecting to tell Damen you sold his three year old to a Patran pedophile?”

“...How do you know about this?”

“Word gets around.” Laurent kept his head high, though he’s smirk was gone.

“He’ll be fine. The person buying him is not a pedophile. He’s going to keep him safe.”

“Like you’ve been keeping us? Starving, being selected to executions… Tell me, what’s your excuse for Nicaise? Or you don’t even know how he almost got executed?”

“He’s alive, isn’t he?”

“He’s alive because Paschal sacrificed himself for him.” Laurent spat back.

“And you think he did so out of the goodness of his heart? He did it so he could save his brother in another camp.”

Laurent’s lips formed a firm line.

“Théodore is being sold to a rescuer.” Nikandros said. “He will be with Erasmus, the boy who has been taking care of him, in Patras. They will be all right, and so will you and Nicaise. When this is over, you’ll be free.”

“As long as there are others to sacrifice, right?”

“My promise to Damen was to keep _you_ alive. Not to save Veretians. I can’t do both.” Nikandros pushed himself from the wall and approached Laurent, grabbing his hair. “Now shut up. I gotta beat you or people will be suspicious.”

“Sure. Go ahead.” Laurent did not lower his head, his blue eyes focusing on Nikandros’s dark ones. “Try not to get too excited while doing so.”

Nikandros frowned and punched Laurent with a little more force than strictly necessary.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent watched from the window, through one swollen eyelid, as his son was taken away. Erasmus glanced around, searching desperately for someone, perhaps Laurent, or maybe just someone to save him. In his arms, Théodore, now three years old, wrapped his arms tightly around Erasmus neck. They were forced into a truck and, in a few minutes, it left.

Frustration hit Laurent like a slap across the face. He had last seen his son as an infant, barely managing to keep himself standing. The boy that left in the truck was now perfectly capable of standing, talking and even making his own decisions. He was no longer an infant, but a young child, with his own personality. Laurent wondered how it was and was shocked to realize he did not know his own son.

Understanding the choice had been made for him, Laurent decided he would return Nicaise the freedom he deserved. Laurent spend the next three days planning everything in detail. Any mistake could cost their lives and Laurent refused to lose yet another son.

Laurent did not expect, however, to watch Loyse be taken, in the middle of the night, to the infirmary. The guards seemed restless as they carried her, leaving Aimeric crying in the arms of another Veretian who volunteered to hold him. Inside the barracks, Veretians stared at one another, all wondering what happened.

A soldier entered the barracks, less than half an hour later, holding a piece of paper. He called Laurent’s name and Laurent stood instantly. He rose a hand to keep Nicaise in place as he approached the soldier.

“Number 3860194839 is dead.” The soldier informed as though he was doing a weather report. “She has left this signed letter, leaving the child in your care. It’s yours now.”

“What!?” Laurent glanced at Aimeric.

“This is the child, correct?” The soldier approached and took Aimeric unceremoniously. “Here. Have it.”

Laurent was famous for always having something to say. It was one of the things that made Damen love and, sometimes, get frustrated at him. _You always have some quick remark ready for me, don’t you?_ He remembered Damen saying at him during a heated discussion. And yet, there he was. Silent, unable to even process what was happening. The whole situation seemed surreal. One son taken, another gained; all at the cost of families torn apart. It was not how things were supposed to be. Even so, Laurent would care for him. Aimeric did not deserve to be raised inside a confinement camp and neither did Nicaise. And Laurent determined not to let it happen.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent decided to make a move during sun break. He found Calix and the corner of his mouth rose as the guard nudged his head towards a corner, in which there was a secluded space leading to a tool shack behind a fence.

“So, you’re the father now?” Calix mocked, glancing down at Aimeric.

“Sort of. His mother is gone, so I’ll raise him. That’s why I asked for the milk.” Laurent told him, the proximity between them as small as it could be.

“I got it. Is inside the shack, like you suggested.” Calix bit his lip as he said it.

Laurent remembered clearly the moment. His lips slowly found their way to Calix’s ear, without ever touching it as he whispered the suggestion. Inside the tool shack there would be an exchange he knew Calix would never deny. And, as expected, he did not.

Calix unlocked the fenced door separating the tool shack from the yard. Laurent told Nicaise to wait there, and handed Aimeric over to him.

“Take good care of him, okay?” Laurent smiled and kissed his son’s forehead.

Nicaise was quiet. He did not like this plan, but he would not say a word. Laurent crossed the fence and he and Calix walked into the tool shack. Laurent roamed his eyes around the shack but did not find the cutter at first glance.

“Here.” Calix said and took a small bag filled with three or four bottles of milk from a box that seemed to fit right into the environment.

“That will do. Thank you.” Laurent smiled at him and pushed his own hair behind his ear.

“No problem. How will you hide it?” Calix asked.

“I can’t tell you my secrets, can I? And you probably shouldn’t know anyway, am I right?” Laurent joked, in a seductive tone he knew worked all too well.

“You are.” Calix smirked and pulled Laurent closer by the waist.

Making an effort not to hesitate, Laurent wrapped his arms around his neck so Calix could not see the expression of disgust on his face as Calix’s hands roamed to his lower back, then even lower. So many years with Damen had made Laurent forget what it was like to be with other men. Damen was slow, caring, dedicated. Others were not and Calix was no exception.

Laurent tried to take his mind off the hands making him shiver in disgust and tried to look for the cutter. It was nowhere to be seen, but Laurent decided to risk it. He stretched out his hand behind Calix, reaching for a hammer. He heard Calix chuckle and feared he had been found out.

“All right.” Calix pushed the instruments back, including Laurent’s desired hammer and sat on the small table, pulling Laurent by the arm to climb after him. “Come on, then.”

Laurent was grateful this man used his lower head for thinking. He climbed on the table, kneeling and straddling of Calix’s body. The guard did not hesitate and undid Laurent’s pants. Calix did not waste time, which meant Laurent needed to be fast. He placed his hand on Calix’s chest, leaning against him, pushing Calix's chest down. Gathering all his courage he slowly approached, his lips aiming for a kiss.

Calix closed his eyes and Laurent lightly brushed his lips against his. Laurent's eyes were kept open as he reached for the hammer and hit Calix on the head with it using all his strength. Calix head hit the table with a noise, but no one outside seemed to hear it.

Laurent got down form the table and searched for the cutter as he adjusted his pants. Thankfully, the adrenaline did not allow his mind to process anything that had happened inside that tool shed. He found a knife and decided to take it with him. The cutter was hidden inside one of the boxes. The few minutes it took to search for it made his heart almost jump out of his throat. He checked Calix several times, making sure he was still unconscious.

When he left, he stole the keys from Calix’s pants. He opened the shed’s door just enough to peek outside. Nicaise was still standing across the fence, holding Aimeric, playing with him. Laurent left the shed and went around it, cutting the wires with shaking hands. When the whole was big enough for them to go through it, Laurent used Calix’s keys to unlock the fence door and Nicaise rushed to meet his father. Laurent fence closed the door so it would take longer for their escape to be noticed but did not waste time locking it.

Nicaise left through the hole and Laurent followed him, holding Aimeric. They rushed into the woods when Laurent heard a shot. Instinct made him glance back and find Calix, disoriented and holding a gun. Aimeric cried loudly from the scare.

“Run!” Laurent shouted at Nicaise and he saw other guards and Veretians inside the camp approaching the fences.

They ran and Laurent heard another shot. A second later, there was an intense pain to his shoulder, which made him stumble. Nicaise slowed down, but Laurent rose, his limbs shaking with adrenaline. 

“Go!” He shouted and there were more shots as they rushed into the forest.

They ran until their bodies could no longer move. Spots clouded Laurent’s vision and Nicaise was pale. Nicaise sat on the ground, his back against a tree, panting. Laurent felt his heart shrink with regret. If he had made the wrong choice he might have condemned his son to an early death, which was exactly what Laurent had planned spare him from. Aimeric still wailed and Laurent rocked him, trying to get him to stop.

“Are you okay, dad?” Nicaise asked, his eyes on Laurent’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Laurent followed Nicaise’s gaze and noticed his clothes completely covered in blood. He checked Aimeric, making sure he was all right.  “Yes, it must be nothing.”

Laurent lowered his cardigan and opened the first buttons of his shirt to expose his shoulder. It did not look fine. It still bled from behind, with no wound on the front. Nicaise took off his cardigan and put it aside. Then took off his shirt and used it to tie up Laurent’s shoulder in an improvised bandage.

“Where did you learn that?” Laurent chuckled softly, finally noticing the cold sweat dripping down his own face.

“Dad Damen taught us while we watched the Discovery Channel. For emergencies.” Nicaise answered.

“Dad Damen is a very good man.” Laurent said. “And you’re a very good son. I’m proud of you.”

“...You shouldn't have kissed that man because of me.” Nicaise sat beside Laurent without looking in his eyes.

Laurent felt ashamed. He had been a fool to believe Nicaise would not catch up with what was happening. This is not what his son should be witnessing him do, but there was no choice for him at the time.

“Nicaise, it’s not your fault. I’m your father, I’d do anything for you. We couldn’t stay there.” Laurent said, holding Nicaise’s hand.

“You're a good dad.” Nicaise admitted in his own nonchalant way and leaned against Laurent.

“I love you.” Laurent smiled. “Listen, we need to find a river.”

“Okay.”

They rose and walked for a while, searching for a river that might lead them to civilization. Their goal was far away, across the border. They needed to reach Patras.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that it was not too much information. It turned out to be quite long. Hahaha! (´ヮ`")  
> EDIT: Next chapter will be published on the 15th! 
> 
> PS: I don't think I mentioned, but I have a [Tumblr](http://shinchiisanakyojin.tumblr.com/) in which I post every time a new chapter is out. Feel free to check it out! (´v`)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Here's the new chapter. I hope you enjoy it! (´ω｀*)
> 
> EDIT: Next chapter will be updated on the 1st!

The call came almost four years after Pallas had been adopted, while the family enjoyed a day at the mall. Pallas and Damen played air hockey and the whole arcade environment was so loud Laurent had to step a few feet away to take the phone call. It came from the social worker responsible for Pallas’s adoption.

“Hestia, hello.” Laurent said and shrugged as he received a questioning look from Damen who rose his head from hearing the familiar name.

“Laurent, good afternoon. Hm, is this a good time?”

“I guess. It's everything all right?” Laurent left the arcade and stood close to the door.

“Yes, yes it is. Hm, listen, I'm calling you in private because, well, this is a very delicate situation and I should not be doing this, but,” She sighed from the other side of the line. Laurent noticed she seemed tense. “There is a child in the orphanage. He's one, and I feel like he might never get adopted.”

“What? A one year old? Why?” Laurent found it strange to know of a toddler that might not get adopted. They were usually the first ones to go.

“He's,” Hestia hesitated. “He's Veretian.”

Laurent's eyes widened and his expression stiffened. Damen, who had been scavenging his pocket for coins, glanced up at Laurent from inside the arcade, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I-” Laurent started, raising a hand to keep Damen from approaching. “Why are you telling me this?”

Laurent was not naive. He knew exactly why, yet there was a need for confirmation.

“Well, I can understand if you're not interested. I mean, you have Pallas already but- If you wish to- Oh, God, why am I sounding like I'm selling a child?” Hestia giggled nervously. “You know I'm not, right? You know the only reason I'm offering is because I know you'll take good care of him. That you'll love him and cherish him. Other people-The system can fail, specially with Veretians. What if he goes to a house and something awful happens?”

“Yes, yes, I understand, but-It's not that simple. We're talking about a child. I need to discuss it with Damen first.”

“Yes, of course! Please do! I don't expect you to agree if you have no interest. But you told me you wished for another child one day and, well, I believe this one would be perfect for you. I'm sorry if I acted inappropriately.”

“No, it's all right. I understand where you're coming from.” Laurent said, noticing the Akielon couple staring at him and pulling their child away.

“Thank you. Please think about it. I'm more than grateful just for that.”

“I will. Thank you for thinking of us.” Laurent said and hung up. “We should talk later.”

Laurent told Damen as he walked back into the arcane and Damen nodded, before finally returning his attention to Pallas, who was frustrated from the lack of it.

 

\-------------

 

Damen sat on the edge of the bed, his arms resting on his knees and his hands together. He processed the words Laurent had thrown at him.

“Another child, right now?” Damen asked.

“Perhaps we could. We just moved to a bigger house and you recently got a raise. The timing is good. But,” Laurent sighed, standing in front of Damen with his arms crossed.

“Do you _want_ another?” Damen asked, raising his head to look at Laurent.

“You know I do. I just hoped Pallas would be older. Perhaps when he was a teenager. But now I'm torn. What about you?”

“I'm not sure. I mean, I was somewhat scared to take Pallas, because I wasn't sure if I could be a good father. But now I can't imagine myself without him.”

Laurent pushed his own hair back, pacing around the room, his other hand rested on his waist. Damen rubbed his face and let out a long sigh.

“We should think about it for a while. We should also consider the costs as well. Do the calculations and see if we can give him all he needs. But, for now, let's sleep on it.” Damen rose, sipped water from the glass on his nightstand and lay on the bed.

“Yes, you're right.” Laurent nodded and lay beside his husband.

Laurent offered his arm and Damen rested his head on it. Laurent’s hands found their way into Damen’s curls and massaged his scalp. It took far too long for them to fall asleep that night.

 

\-------------

 

When Laurent and Damen were finally able to take Nicaise home he had turned two years old. Damen held him, smiling foolishly on the way to their car. He could never understand how someone could not have adopted this child. Nicaise’s big blue eyes found them as soon as he was brought into the room. Hestia accompanied the orphanage employee and approached them.

“Hello, Nicaise.” Laurent said, kneeling in front of him.

Nicaise threw himself in Laurent’s arms as if he belonged there. Damen caressed Nicaise’s head and, once more, the boy threw himself at him. It became a problem when Damen had tried to put him down to meet Pallas, and Nicaise refused to let go. Laurent held back his laugh and Damen sat down, allowing Pallas to see his new brother. He did not seem to care much, but patted Nicaise’s head for a brief moment.

As they left, Laurent helped Damen put Nicaise on his chair and then opened the door for Pallas. On the ride back home Pallas kept his head down and frowned, but said nothing. Laurent noticed, from the rear view mirror, Pallas forming fists with his hands on his lap while glaring at the talkative - Though no one could understand his babbling - Nicaise by his side. Laurent glanced at Damen, who drove around smiling.

At the house, Damen sat with Nicaise on the floor, playing with him while Laurent prepared snacks.

“Hey, Pallas, come here. Come play with your brother.” Damen called.

“No.” Pallas said, playing alone with his toys on the corner.

“What's the matter? Come here. He wants to play with you.” Damen told him and waved Nicaise’s arms at Pallas.

“I said no!” Pallas shouted and Nicaise cried from the scare.

“What's going on here?” Laurent returned to the living room carrying a tray and placed it on the dinner table.

Pallas rose and ran away to his room, slamming the door. Damen was left sitting on the floor, holding Nicaise in his arms, trying to calm him down.

“What's gotten into him?” Damen asked.

“Perhaps the fact that you've been ignoring him ever since we got Nicaise?” Laurent snapped at Damen.

“What are you talking about!?” Damen frowned.

“Damen, when we got Pallas you were quiet the whole time. Now, you're all smiles and playfulness.”

“That's only because I was scared the first time! I was unsure of what kind of father I would be!” Damen’s voice echoed through the walls. “It has nothing to do with him!”

“Yes, but he doesn't know that! He's a ten year old who feels like he's being replaced!” Laurent rose his voice as well, to match Damen’s.

Damen's frown did not lessen, but he took a moment to breathe and think about Pallas' point of view. Perhaps, in the eyes of a ten year old – specially one that had been abandoned before - Damen might have been unfair.

“If you treat them differently, they'll resent each other forever.” Laurent said.

“I know. I’ll,” Damen sighed. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Damen rose and tried to hang Nicaise over to Laurent. His heart broke when Nicaise would not let go of his neck. It took him over two minutes of talking to convince him to go with Laurent.

“I didn’t mean to.” Damen explained.

“I know you didn’t.”

The words did not come out of Laurent’s mouth. They never would, it was not who he was. Yet his eyes apologized to Damen in ways his lips could never do. Damen kissed his lips and went up the stairs, following Pallas.

 

\-------------

 

The first year and a half with two children had been difficult. It took a while for Pallas to get used to a brother and his jealousy made him stay as far away from Nicaise as possible. He was not used to sharing a room or his parent's attention. And Nicaise was not the easiest child to deal with. He had a difficult personality from a young age and Pallas did not have the patience required to deal with him. Every once in a while, one of their parents would walk into the room and find Nicaise shouting or crying, stomping his feet on the floor to get things his way before Pallas pushed him to the ground. Scolds and punishments would put them in their places, but the scene was a current one in their house.

However, after over a year of this, both Pallas and Nicaise got tired of losing their privileges. And with time, Pallas learned that being a supportive big brother earned him much more gratitude and time with his parents than being a grumpy one. Not only that, but considering the society they lived in, if he were not there to protect his brother, no one would be. 

The first time he realized this the family had gone out to bowl at the local mall. Laurent held Nicaise’s hand and Damen Pallas’s as they approached the counter. Laurent pretended not to notice the expression of disgust from the ones around them, focusing on the person behind the counter, getting their bowling shoes. She was not exactly nice, but at least there was no distinctive despise in her eyes.

“Here they are. Four pair of shoes.” The employer said, putting the shoes on the counter. “Please check the sizes.”

“Yes, I think this is okay. Thank you.” Damen smiled and they headed to the fifth alley, as instructed.

“All right, Nicaise, go with your father so he can put on your shoes.” Laurent said and fondled his son’s head. “Pallas, come sit over here, to put yours as I put mine.”

Pallas sat beside Laurent so they could put on their shoes together. Pallas’s shoes felt too tight and he went along with Laurent to ask for a bigger size. Laurent stood by the counter, waiting for the shoes and chatting with his son when he noticed someone glancing at him while talking to a security guard. Laurent had been through that scenario more times than he could remember and rolled his eyes as the guard approached him.

“Good evening, _sir_.” Laurent could almost feel the sting from the disgust imbued into the last word.

“Good evening.” Laurent smiled.

“Is this your child?”

Laurent could _feel_ Pallas tense up and frown from where he stood. At twelve, Pallas understood quite well what it meant for others to see an Akielon child with a Veretian adult together.

“Yes, he is.” Laurent answered proudly, showing his son exactly how to react in those kinds of situations.

“May I see some ID?”

Laurent could have denied, just to prove them wrong after the issue had reached much greater proportions, but he did not. He kindly smiled once more and turned to Damen.

“Hey, _honey_!” He shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Damen turned with furrowed brows. Laurent never called him anything but his name unless something was wrong. Unless Damen was to play the part of the big, strong and scary man people mistaken him to be.

“Would you mind bringing me Pallas’s and my documents? They don’t believe he is my child.”

Damen rose and the eyes of the person who had notified the guard seemed about to pop out of their skull. The guard himself had become somewhat tense from the ordeal. Damen held Nicaise with one arm and marched up to Laurent, carrying Pallas’s ID and Laurent’s Residency Card.

“Is there a problem here?” Damen asked, handing Nicaise over to Laurent who had to hold back his smile.

“Not at all, sir. Just confirming. May I see the child’s ID and the Veretian’s Residency Card?”

“The _what_ now?” Damen rose an eyebrow and crossed his arms. It was not his intention, but that made his muscles more prominent.

“I apologize, sir.” Laurent could swear he saw a vein twitch on the guards forehead. “Your husband’s.”

“You can after you show me your identification as well. Just confirming. You know how it is.” Damen smiled.

Laurent could have done all that. He could have taken the IDs himself, he could have asked the guard for his, and he could have even humiliated him with words alone. But seeing Damen do it, seeing those people forced to swallow their pride and accept his “highly dysfunctional family” - As they had been called a number of times - gave Laurent immense pleasure.

The guard – much against his will – showed Damen his identification and Damen checked it thoroughly. Laurent almost laughed at Damen’s pathetically forced focused expression as he did so. Though Damen was usually kind, he had a certain cheekiness in him that made Laurent’s heart flutter and fill up with pride of having Damen as his husband.

Damen, who had leaned over to check the identification, rose his head and showed Pallas’s and Laurent’s IDs. The guard barely glanced them, wanting nothing more than for it to be over. Damen and Laurent smiled kindly, as if they were paid for it, and the guard left them alone. Laurent made sure to give Damen an unnecessarily long, yet sweet kiss before they took Pallas’s new shoes and headed to the bowling alley.

On the way, Damen talked to Pallas, distracting him from Laurent’s subtle detour to the complainer’s table. Laurent was sweet and kind as he approached, smiling widely.

“What a cute baby.” He told the parents.

“...T-Thank you.” One of them answered with widened eyes.

“Is it yours?” Laurent asked, oh so curious. “He’s just so lovely I can barely believe it. Have a great night.”

Laurent kept his smile before catching up with his husband and son.

“You could not let it go, could you?” Damen asked as they sat down to watch Pallas play.

“You really thought I would?” Laurent smirked, putting Nicaise on the ground. “By the way,”

Laurent started, scooting closer to Damen, his hand discreetly caressing Damen’s inner tight, much too close to his crotch.

“That tone of voice was so hot.” He whispered to Damen’s ear, following it with a delicate kiss to his earlobe. “Please use it tonight when you fuck me into the mattress.”

Damen widened his eyes and Laurent could see the flush on his husband’s dark cheeks. Damen looked down at Nicaise whose attention was focused on Pallas’s play. Damen did not get a chance to see it, but clapped and complimented his son when he saw Laurent doing so. It was so natural and believable Damen wondered if Laurent had actually seen the play or was just that good of a liar. Pallas smiled widely at them, feeling proud.

When Nicaise’s turn came next, Laurent was about to rise to help him, but sat back down as soon as he saw Pallas taking his brother’s hand and pulling him closer to the ball return.

“Come, I’ll show you how to throw.” Pallas said and took one of the small bowling balls their parents had bought them.

“Okay!” Nicaise nodded and rushed to take the ball, excited to learn something new, specially from his brother.

Pallas explained to Nicaise where he was to put his fingers when he “grew up enough for them to fit” and then proceeded to give Nicaise tips on how to throw the ball. Laurent rose his eyebrows and looked at Damen, who reacted the exact same way.

Pallas crouched beside Nicaise and watched him throw a ball that barely made its way to the pins. When two lonely pins went down, Pallas celebrated and so did Nicaise. For the first time the two brothers were acting as such.

Pallas brought Nicaise back to his parents by the hand and helped him sit on the bench. Laurent rose, pinching both his sons’ cheeks and taking one of the balls to himself. Damen congratulated Nicaise and caressed Pallas’s head before placing a kiss on it.

“You did very well teaching your brother how to play. You’re a very good big brother.” Damen whispered.

Pallas smiled and lowered his head, his cheeks burning with shyness and pride.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent and Damen sat at the dinner table late at night to fill up the forms. Damen had a glass of wine and, miraculously, Laurent decided to join him. By the time Laurent filled up their personal information, Damen had drank three glasses and Laurent had barely finished a single one.

“All right. Let’s do this.” Laurent started. “‘Type of child accepted’, wow, how I hate this forms. It sounds like we’re about to purchase an item. Anyway, let’s see, ‘Age Range’. ‘Cute... Little... Baby.’” Laurent pretended to write.

“Laurent!” Damen laughed. “Answer it seriously!”

“Ugh. Fine.” Laurent dramatically rolled his eyes. “What age should we put?”

“Well, I think six months or under is good enough, right?” Damen said.

“Yes, I think that’s fine.” Laurent actually wrote this time. “‘Sex’, definitely, as soon as we finish this form.”

Damen laughed and threw himself back to lean against the back of the chair. He took a big, necessary gulp from his glass.

“‘Total number of children desired’, the way things are going, I’m thinking ten.”

“Laurent, you know I’ll do anything for you. But I will not have ten children.” Damen chuckled.

“Pff. Weak.” Laurent mocked, taking a sip from his wine. It tasted awful.

“How about… Five?” Damen pondered for a moment before suggesting.

“Five!?” Laurent chuckled. “Really?”

“Well, you won’t stop asking for children!” Damen laughed. “So, I’m guessing, we’ll end up with five. That is an acceptable amount of children for us to have.”

“All right, then. Five it is.”

Laurent bit his lower lip and stroked Damen’s hand with his free one. It had started as a joke, but now Laurent was growing more and more interested. Not that he had ever thought about having so many children, but now he could honestly see himself doing it.

“Well, moving on.” Laurent looked back at the papers, kissing Damen’s hand before letting go. “‘Origin acceptable’. Oh, god, here we go. ‘Akielon’, yes; ‘Patran’, yes; ‘Vaskian’. Ha! Vask is a closed and wonderful country. No one wants to leave. How can someone possibly get a Vaskian child!?”

“Would you like me to finish this?” Damen rose his eyebrow, leaning over the table to touch the tip of the form.

“No, get your hands off my form.” Laurent slapped Damen’s hand and finished his glass of wine in a long gulp. Damen realized, much too late, it had been a mistake to give him alcohol. “And, of course, last but not least: ‘Veretian’. Also a big. Fucking. _Yes_.”

Though quite understandable, Damen could not help but smile at Laurent’s drunken rage. Perhaps it was the way Laurent’s arms swung awkwardly, the way his cheeks flushed, or the uneven way he spoke. Something about it made it so amusing that, for the sake of their household, Damen had to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Oh.” Laurent, who had been lazily using his hand to support his head as he leaned over the table, sat up straight and widened his eyes at the form. Damen furrowed his eyebrows at him and Laurent rose his eyes to meet his husband. “‘Half-breed’.”

Damen stood and went around the table to sit beside Laurent and look at the form.

“When did they add this?” Laurent asked, not expecting an answer. “Damen, we could get a mixed baby.”

Laurent’s eyes glimmered at the possibility.

“Laurent, you know they are quite rare.” Damen said.

It was not Damen’s wish to crush Laurent’s dream, but he preferred doing so than seeing Laurent’s heart broken later on.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Laurent shut his eyes for a moment. “But, Damen,”

Laurent’s gaze when his eyes met Damen’s could have him doing anything. If Laurent had asked Damen to do the unthinkable, with that expression, Damen would have gladly obliged.

“Just imagine if we get one. A little baby. Half me, half you.” Laurent held back his hopeful smile, biting over his lower lip.

“Then mark ‘yes’. And let’s wait.” Damen said, pulling the form closer to Laurent’s body, squeezing Laurent’s hand in his.

Laurent filled the blank space and Damen lifted his hand to place a kiss on it.

 

\-------------

 

When Laurent and Damen decided to get another child, even younger this time, Pallas was excited. Nicaise was not. No six-year-old wants to lose his spot as the youngest. The same frowns they saw in Pallas years before, now had shifted to his younger brother. But when Théodore came, though, all of this was forgotten. Curiosity beat jealousy when Laurent came into the house, carrying the little one.

“He's so tiny.” Nicaise said, staring at Théo.

“He is, isn't he?” Laurent said, holding the baby for them to see.

“Can I hold him?” Pallas asked.

“Of course. Just be careful, all right?” Damen said.

“I wanna hold him too!” Nicaise said with a pout.

“One at a time, Nicaise. Wait your turn. Your brother goes first.” Damen said as Laurent handed the baby to Pallas.

“He's so cute.” Pallas said, while Théo struggled to open his eyes, blinking in his brother’s direction.

“Gimme, gimme!” Nicaise asked after one or two minutes.

“Nicaise, calm down. It's your brother's turn.” Damen said.

“No, it's all right, dad.” Pallas smiled. “Here, Nicaise. Be very careful, okay? He's heavier than he looks.”

“Okay, okay!” Nicaise’s frown disappeared as soon as he was able to take the baby.

Pallas put Théo in Nicaise's arms and kept his hands under him for the first few seconds in which Nicaise adjusted Théo's position. Théo's blue eyes opened slightly, focusing on Nicaise for a moment. Nicaise looked at Pallas, then at his parents, fascinated. Théo put his little tongue out and rubbed his tiny hands on his own face before yawning. Pallas knelt in front of Nicaise to look at the baby.

“Why isn’t he doing anything?” Nicaise asked, already bored after a few minutes.

“He’s a newborn. He doesn’t… _Do_ much except for sleeping, pooping and-”

Before Damen could finish Théo gave Nicaise the honor of spitting up for the first time. Nicaise’s features contorted in utter disgust as he handed Théo over to Damen.

“Ewww! So gross! It stinks!”

“And this.” Damen laughed, cleaning Théo up.

“Let’s go change your shirt, Nicaise.” Laurent said, offering his hand.

“He’s gross! Pallas, come. Let’s go change my shirt and play by ourselves!”

Nicaise said and, with confidence his brother would agree, pulled him by the arm. Pallas followed him, glancing back at the baby as he went. Laurent stood, his hand offered to the air while Damen held back his laugh.

That night, Pallas spend around two hours in their parent’s room, secretly cheating on Nicaise and giving his brotherly love to the newcomer. Damen and Laurent helped him hide the evidence by throwing his peed shirt into their own bathroom’s laundry basket.

“You know, Nicaise was right.” Pallas said, holding the baby without a shirt. “He _is_ kinda gross.”

 

\-------------

 

Nicaise was no strange to bullying. His bright blue eyes and pale skin marked him as a target and his days were usually filled with people pushing him to the ground, stealing his home-made lunch or simply being called names.

That day was different, though. From the moment he left the building, heading to the high-schooler’s section, he noticed three older boys following him. With a glance back, Nicaise went out of his way to escape from his bullies.

“Where are you going, little white snake?” The tallest boy asked, pulling Nicaise by his backpack.

“Let go.” Nicaise struggled, holding on to his backpack’s straps.

“Nah. Why don’t we play for a while?” The boy pulled Nicaise between buildings, throwing him to the ground.

“If I tell my brother you’re doing this he’ll kick your asses. So let me go right now, or I’ll tell him!” Nicaise threatened.

“Oh yeah?” The boy laughed. “And who _is_ your brother?”

“You know who he is. He’s in high-school, his name is Pallas.”

“Oh, he’s not your brother. He’s a disgusting little shit, but he’s Akielon. You are just scum.”

“So? Just because we’re adopted doesn’t mean we’re not brothers. You have an adoptive brother too, don’t you?” Nicaise turned to one of the other two boys. “Is he not your brother?”

“Shut up, you little shit.” The boy flushed and kicked Nicaise on the ribs. “Don’t compare my brother to you.”

“I think this garbage needs to learn his place.” The leader spoke again, forcefully pulling Nicaise’s backpack from his shoulder. “Kick his ass while I look for something nice.”

Following his orders, the other two boys entertained themselves by pushing Nicaise between each other or beating him, usually in places covered by his uniform or hair our of pure habit. It took a few minutes for their leader to steal the emergency money from Nicaise’s bag.  When he was done, he returned to the group and pulled at Nicaise’s neck strap with unnecessary roughness.

“‘Akielos-Living Veretian Citizen’. Well, since you want to live in Akielos so much, you should adapt to our culture. And we don’t really mind getting naked, so you should get used to that too.”

By his orders, the other boys stripped Nicaise of his clothes as the leader broke Nicaise’s Residency Card in two. They ran as soon as they heard people approaching, but not before throwing Nicaise’s clothes on the highest branches of a tree.

Nicaise picked up his broken card from the ground and remembered his parent’s words as he had received it. _You can’t ever be without this card. If you lose it, they can take you from us. Please don’t lose this card._ And now his card was broken and Nicaise was scared.

“Oh my God! Are you all right!?” An Akielon girl, probably a year or so younger than Pallas, approached. “Who did this to you!? Where are your clothes!?”

“I-” The shock from it all made tears roll down Nicaise’s eyes. “My card...”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” She took off her coat and covered Nicaise with it. “Is there anyone we can call? Your parents, perhaps a sibling?”

“Pallas.” Nicaise wiped the tears that continued to come out. “My brother, Pallas.”

“Okay, let’s go to the principal’s office, all right? We’ll find your brother. Everything will be fine.” She smiled at him and made sure to close her coat and hold Nicaise’s hand.

“I can’t-My card. My card is broken. I can’t go anywhere.”

“It’ll be fine, I promise. We’re just going to the principal’s office. No one will ask for your card on the way there, okay? We’ll figure something out.” She said and quickly took Nicaise’s bag and belongings from the floor, returning to his side.

“Thank you.” Nicaise whispered.

“No problem. Everything will be okay.”

Nicaise held her hand tightly, heading to the principal’s office.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent reached the school in less than thirty minutes after the incident. Damen did not pick up his phone, which probably meant he was at a meeting and would take a while. Which was bad for the ones involved.

Laurent marched into the school as if he owned it, his posture perfectly straight and head high. Those in the way actually stepped to the side to let him pass. His presence was so overwhelming no one dared to stand in his way. He entered the principal’s office to find two police officers on each side of Nicaise, who sat on a chair on the side of the room.

“What is going on here? Why is my son naked?” Laurent asked, already taking new clothes from his bag for Nicaise to wear. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Laurent knelt in front of his son, handing him his clothes.

“Sir, please do not interact with the child.”

Laurent rose and his cold blue eyes fixated themselves on the officer’s.

“What the fuck you just say? I can’t give my son his clothes?” Laurent’s tone was low and cold.

The principal let out a sigh and ran a hand over her face. She knew Laurent all too well. The policeman glanced at his friend, clearly intimidated by Laurent’s piercing gaze. His friend nodded for moral support. The officer opened his mouth but Laurent did not allow him to continue.

Laurent’s gaze could not hold a candle to the fierceness words. He was fast, like a sword, piercing a chest and slowly, painfully, tearing his opponent apart. The police officers’ lips trembled, daring to open a few times, but they were not given a chance to let out a single word. When Laurent spoke, he stole the chance for everyone else to do so.

When he was done, the officers did not dare to stop Laurent as he pulled Nicaise from between them and gave him his pants. Nicaise put them on and Laurent removed the girl’s coat, throwing it at the principal’s desk without care while Nicaise put on his shirt. The officers clearly had never met a Veretian that was not terrified of them and were unsure of how to proceed for a while. There were too may issues to solve at once.

“We tried to make him speak but he won’t tell us who did it.” The principal said, almost in a shy whisper.

Laurent glanced at Nicaise and knew his expression well. He would not talk.

“Then I’ll take him home. Now, here are,” Laurent rose and reached into his bag, taking every possible document for him and for Nicaise and shoving them into the policeman’s hands. “my son’s adoption certificate, our residency forms, our life-insurance, my passport and everything else you might possibly need. Or do I need to bring my fucking Akielon husband here to take our son home?”

“Sir, if you continue with this attitude I’ll arrest you for contempt.”

“Oh, please! You can’t even find the kids that stripped my son.” Laurent mocked.

“Sir, I’m warning you-”

“Can I take my son home now? Or does he need to be humiliated even further?” Laurent turned to the other officer, who was clearly unable to handle him. “Or do I need to show you a picture of me kissing an Akielon flag or something?”

“N-No. That will be all.” The officer handed the documents back to Laurent, taking a different a single sheet of paper from the principal’s desk. “You’ll be able to pick up a new Residency Card for your son in a week, at the City Hall. Until then, here is his Certificate of Residency. It loses value after two weeks. Please write your son’s full name here.”

Laurent took them roughly from the officer’s hand and took the liberty of taking a pen from the principal’s desk as if it belonged to him. He wrote Nicaise’s name, shoved the document into his bag and roughly dropped the pen back at the principal’s desk.

“Come, Nicaise. Let’s go home.” He said and took Nicaise by the hand. He turned to the principal before leaving. “And I highly suggest you find the culprits and punish them severely or swear I’ll make your life a living hell.”

Laurent left and, all the way to their home, he said nothing. They took a cab, but the driver did not ask for Nicaise’s Residency Card, just Laurent’s. Which was good for the cab driver. Laurent walked into the house and, as soon as he crossed the door, he knelt and hugged his son. Nicaise took a moment to reciprocate.

“Nicaise, what happened? Who did this?”

“No one, daddy. Just-”

“Nicaise, tell me what happened. This is serious!” Laurent asked, holding Nicaise’s face in his hands.

“No, daddy! It was nothing.”

“Nicaise!”

“Please don’t make us change schools again!” Nicaise pleaded. “Pallas has a boyfriend now! Please, I wanna stay there!”

“I-” Laurent was speechless. “Nicaise, I won’t-All right. We’ll see what happens, okay? But, please, you have to tell me who did this. We’ll talk to your principal tomorrow and you’ll tell everyone what happened.”

“Only if you promise we won’t change schools.”

“...Fine. Now tell me everything.”

 

\-------------

 

Laurent reacted to bad news with a stern expression and a sharp tongue. Damen reacted more physically, wanting to use the energy to do something that would exhaust his body. For that, he had separated a single room in his house to set a humble “gym”. It had nothing more than a minibar filled with beverages, a treadmill and a punching bag. But it was enough or him to release his frustrations.

That day, however, he had been using for much longer than usual. Pallas heard him as he went downstairs to pour himself a glass of water. On his way back to his room, he heard Nicaise laughing inside Théo’s bedroom. Pallas approached and saw Nicaise standing on a chair, making faces at Théo. Laurent changed the baby’s diaper and Théo moved his legs and arms, laughing at Nicaise. Laurent held Théo’s legs up and handed his little feet over for Nicaise to hold.

“Hold tight, or he’ll get himself free.” Laurent warned and replaced the dirty diaper with a new one.

“This position makes him look like a turkey.” Nicaise mocked.

“Nicaise!” Laurent tried to hold back, but ended up laughing.

“Dad.” Pallas called.

“Yes?” Laurent turned to face him. “Here, close it.”

Nicaise supported himself on his elbows, one on each side of Théo to fasten the adhesive strips. Pallas approached and Théo shouted, trying to grab him. Pallas smiled and held Théo’s hand.

“Can we talk?” Pallas asked.

“Huh, sure.” Laurent nodded and checked Théo’s diaper. “Very good, Nicaise. Great job.”

Nicaise smiled and jumped off the chair. Laurent put Théo on the play mat and asked Nicaise to distract him for a moment. Nicaise grabbed a few toys to show Théo and played with him while Laurent and Pallas headed into the hallway.

“What is the matter?”

“Dad Damen.” Pallas nudged his chin towards the stairs to indicate the room downstairs in which Damen was.

“Still?” Laurent sighed. “It’s his job, and this whole thing with Nicaise. He’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’ll talk to him.”

“When? You two barely got time with Théo around. Look, my last exam is tomorrow, why don’t you two go out or something? You don’t even need a baby sitter, I’ll take care of Théo.”

Laurent wanted to deny it. He wanted to say it was fine and keep his Pallas from taking care of his two brothers. But Damen needed it. He had been so long inside the gym that Laurent was feeling sorry for the punchbag.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him and let you know tomorrow. Now go study.”

“Okay.” Pallas smiled and returned to his room.

 

\-------------

 

The next day Laurent found himself excited. It felt like they were in their twenties once again, going out for the first time. Damen no longer had the leather jacket, but in exchange he wore a blazer and a formal shirt with the first two buttons open.

His face and body, however, were quite similar to their former self. Laurent caught himself staring as Damen put on his watch, checking himself on the mirror one last time. Damen’s hands were large and Laurent could not take his eyes off them as Damen ran his fingers through his hair. _Like this could be enough to control this wonderful mess._ , thought Laurent.

“Ready?” Damen turned.

“Yes.” Laurent rose.

“You look nice.” Damen told him, caressing Laurent’s nape and placing a kiss on his lips.

Laurent’s hands found their way to Damen’s back, then lower,pulling him closer so their waists could touch. Damen bit his lower lip and Laurent smirked at him, kissing his chest once. Every gesture slow, teasing.

“Come, we have reservations.” The smirk still decorated Laurent’s lips as he left their bedroom. Damen followed.

“All right, listen up. We’ll be coming back in the morning.” Damen told his sons.

Pallas sat on the couch, watching TV with Théo on his lap and Nicaise by his side.

“Pallas, call us if you need anything. And Nicaise, while we’re out your brother is in charge. Listen to him.”

“Okay.” Nicaise rose a daring eyebrow and turned to Théo. “What’s that, Théo? You want to jump on dads’ bed? Okay, _you’re in charge_.”

Laurent placed a hand on his waist and pinched Nicaise’s nose with the knuckles of the other. Damen was too busy hiding behind his husband and laughing in silence.

“Let’s see if you’re that funny when grounded.” Laurent threatened. “See you in the morning.”

The couple said their goodbyes and left, getting into the car. Usually the soundtrack was idle chatting, accompanied by children’s DVDs on the player in front of Théo’s seat. Now, they could listen to whatever they wanted. Adult songs, for a change. And even Laurent who was more of a classic music kind of man accepted Damen’s offer for some of the good old rock and roll.

Laurent found amusing how the sensuality of Damen’s voice could simply vanish when he sang. Not that Laurent was a talented singer of any sort, but compared to Damen he was the best out there. Yet, it did not seem like a problem when Damen took Laurent’s hand and used it as a microphone when they stopped at a red light. Laurent covered his face in embarrassment, trying not to laugh at him.

In twenty years a lot had changed. They had more legal rights in each other’s countries, their bodies had aged; yet, somethings never did. Like the way people glared at them as they entered the restaurant. It was not rare, so they did not even bother at this point. They sat at the table and refused to let go of each other’s hands.

“Have I told you how nice you look today?” Damen asked.

“Why, thank you.” Laurent answered. “Have you decided yet?”

“Wow. Aren’t you gonna say it back? You know, ‘You look wonderful too, my love.’?”

“Oh, no. You look _hideous_.” Laurent mocked.

“You’re terrible.” Damen laughed warmly and kissed Laurent’s hand. “As a matter of fact I have decided. I will have the lamb cutlets, the smashed potatoes and, for dessert I’m hoping to have _you_.”

Damen lowered his tone with the last word, sending a shiver up Laurent’s spine. Laurent glanced in the bathroom’s direction and lamented the fact that he could not discreetly head in there and have his way with Damen on the spot.

“If you get me a real dessert, perhaps we that could be arranged.”

“What would you like, my love?” Damen kissed Laurent’s hand.

“A strawberry cake.” Laurent paused, his eyes focused on Damen’s. “To go.”

Damen rose an eyebrow and smirked before pulling Laurent closer and leaning on the table so their lips could meet. 

“As you wish.”

 

\-------------

 

Nicaise rushed down the stairs as soon as he heard the doorbell. He pushed Pallas – Who had been simply kind enough to answer the door – to the side and opened the door in his place. His eyes were wide and shining while hips lips were sealed in restrained joy.

“Well, if it isn’t my lovely nephew!” Auguste shouted, grabbing Nicaise and lifting him up, turning him on his side.

Nicaise could not help but laugh while he was thrown up and caught again by his uncle. Pallas’s frown from being pushed disappeared as he greeted Auguste.

“Hey, uncle Auguste.”

“Pallas!” Auguste put Nicaise down and hugged his nephew. “How are you!? Damn, you’re huge! What are they feeding you?”

With hug and a pat on Pallas’s chest, Auguste entered the house as if it was his own. Pallas closed the door while Nicaise filled Auguste with questions and talked like there was no tomorrow. From Théodore’s room, Damen and Laurent laughed at the uproar going on downstairs.

“I think your brother’s here.” Damen mocked, cleaning up Théo’s bottom.

“Great. Now you’ll drool as much as Théodore.” Laurent provoked, a smirk on his face as he handed Damen a clean diaper.

“Shut up.” Damen laughed, changing Théodore's diaper. “You know I’d never cheat on you with your brother… I _do_ cheat on your hair with his, though.”

Laurent laughed and pushed Damen to the side, rolling his eyes.

“Let’s go, ‘Hair-meo’.” Laurent picked up Théo and caressed his small nape with the tips of his fingers.

“You are so cute.” Laurent whispered at Théo, so low even Damen could barely hear it.

Then, a scandalous sound came from where Damen stood. Laurent turned to find Damen holding his phone in his direction. Laurent frowned at that, but Damen’s smile as he left the room kept him from saying anything.

As they got down the stairs, Auguste sat on the couch, bending over to take a package out of his suitcase. He handed it over to Pallas, who opened it to find a nice jacket from a famous Veretian brand, which, unfortunately, did not deliver to Akielos. Pallas thanked his uncle with a hug and a wide smile before trying it on.

“I’m so glad it fit. When your father told me your size I thought he was crazy!” Auguste said.

“I told you I was right.” Damen said, approaching.

“Damen! How are you?” Auguste rose, hugging Damen with the couch still between them.

“Hey, Auguste.” Damen patted him on the back. “Have you watched the finals?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I did! That last play by-” Auguste was already gesturing, getting excited when he spotted his brother, holding Théo in his arms. “Ohhh, is that him!?”

Auguste rushed to go around the couch and meet his new nephew, completely ignoring his previous conversation. Damen remembered Laurent mocking his brother’s short attention span and chuckled. Théo was still quite small, barely able to lift up his head on his own, and yet Auguste could see his little smile behind the pacifier.

“He’s so cute...” Auguste admitted, in complete awe, before caressing the back of Théo’s head. “Can I hold him? I’ve washed my hands!”

Laurent laughed at that. His brother knew him all too well.

“Of course. Here.” Laurent handed Théo over to Auguste, who took him with care.

For a moment, their loud house went quiet. All eyes on the newcomer.

“Uncle Auguste, do you have a present for me too?” Nicaise finally broke the silence, unable to hold back anymore.

“I do. But first, let me just give this little one something too.” Auguste walked towards his backpack and sat back on the couch.

He took small package and handed it to Théo. The baby stared it and did nothing more than try to grab the paper and bring it to his mouth a few times. After a minute or so, Laurent – who had been filming it all with his phone – suggested Damen should open it for him.

Damen ripped the paper, allowing Théo to reach inside and take a small, white onesie and put it in his mouth. Damen took it from him and glanced at the front, where there was a written sentence.

“‘My daddies are great’.” Damen read and rose the onesie to the camera.

As he did so, he laughed before turning the onesie around to expose the sentence written on the back.

“‘But my uncle is better!’.”

“I can’t believe this.” Laurent rolled his eyes.

“What can I say?” Auguste shrugged, with a conceited expression.

“You are ridiculous.” Laurent informed him.

“And now, last but not least...” Auguste started, standing and walking up to the door.

The blue of Nicaise’s eyes was big with expectation as he stood by the door, waiting for his uncle to return. Laurent gave him a gentle tap on the butt, allowing him to go outside without his shoes on.

Auguste opened the trunk of his car and pulled something out, placing it on the ground. From where Damen and Laurent stood, they could not see what it was, but Nicaise jumped in excitement, rushing back to the house to pull his parents closer.

“It’s a bike! Daddy, it’s a bicycle!” Nicaise shouted and they were not sure who he was addressing.

Nicaise pulled them both closer and returned to Auguste’s side. Pallas came along and pulled the bicycle away from the car. It had a white basket and the body was dalmatian printed. Nicaise jumped around it, excited, before hugging Auguste for no more than a second, with all his strength.

“Did you like it?” Auguste asked, his free hand sliding into Nicaise’s hair.

“Yes!” Nicaise shouted and mounted the bike. “Daddy, can you lend your bike to uncle Auguste so he can ride with me?”

“It’s your cue, ‘Daddy’.” Laurent said and received a kiss when Damen was passing, on his way to the backyard where his bike would be.

Laurent took a few pictures of Nicaise on the bike before Damen returned with his own. Auguste handed Théo over to Laurent and took Damen’s bike.

 

\-------------

 

The sun had set when Nicaise had finally decided to come inside. His parents and brothers had been the audience as his uncle taught him how to ride his first bycicle, and now they watched him get used to the new one. There were a few scratches on his arms and legs from when he tried some new moves, but he payed them no mind. Despite the hours spend exercising, his energy did not seem to have diminished in the least. So when Damen came out of the shower later that night, he found all of the house’s mattresses covering the stairs, all the way down. Some pillows had also been strategically placed on the curve of the stairs, for safety. 

“What’s going on?” He asked Laurent, who stood at the top of the stairs.

“It’s a slide.” Laurent explained with a smirk.

“...Whose idea was this?”

Laurent simply shrugged and took Damen’s hands in his, pulling him towards the stairs. Damen hugged him from behind as he watched Pallas climb the mattresses along with Nicaise, racing to the top. He let Nicaise win, but the other did not seem to notice. After much insistence, Damen slid down with Nicaise once before going back up, sitting down and pulling Laurent to sit on his lap. Laurent laughed, hiding his face in Damen’s neck as they slid down. 

“Oh my, that must have been quite the ride!” Auguste mocked from the way Laurent flushed. 

Laurent pushed his brother to the side and checked Théo’s baby monitor, resting on the dining table. 

 

 

\-------------

 

After hours of sliding, Pallas and Nicaise went upstairs to take a shower while Damen and Laurent prepared dinner. Auguste sat in one of the kitchen’s stools, feeding Théodore with a bottle. The couple laughed in silence about the many expressions and baby voices Auguste could do. And even from the kitchen far away, they could hear Pallas and Nicaise laughing and shouting upstairs.

“They’re going to destroy that bathroom, aren’t they?” Laurent asked, looking up.

“I’ll go check on them.”

Damen headed upstairs and the ruckus seemed to grow louder and louder as he approached the bathroom, yet he realized the sound was actually coming from Pallas’s bedroom, in front of it. Damen opened the door to find Pallas shirtless, shaking his head like a dog, splashing water from his hair on his brother. Nicaise sat on Pallas’s bed, wearing his pajama tops and using Pallas’s pillow to protect himself.

Walking up to Pallas’s bed, Damen took another pillow and hit them both with it.

“Get dressed and come have dinner!”

With a serious glare and a hand sign letting them know he would be watching, Damen turned and left. Nicaise and Pallas exchanged meaningful looks before making faces and sticking their tongues out at Damen behind his back.

After dinner that night, the whole family shared a large bed made out of the previously used mattresses, spread along the living room. Nicaise slept between Auguste and Laurent. Théo lay comfortably squeezed between his parents; and Pallas used Damen’s back to support his head. The whole family slept in peace. Completely unaware of days to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read, edited and modified this chapter so many times I honestly don't know what to think about it anymore. Hahah! I hope it ended up okay and that you guys enjoyed! (´ヮ`")
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!!!
> 
> Here is the new chapter! I hope you enjoy it. (´ヮ`)
> 
> Next one should come on the 15th!

“Dad.” Nicaise called and Laurent opened his eyes.

“Hm? What is it?” Laurent rose his head, still dizzy. The lack of food, water and medical treatment taking a tool on his body.

“I brought fruit.” Nicaise said, pointing to a small pile of fruits he had gathered.

“Oh. Thank you, sweetheart. Where did you get those?” Laurent salivated at the sight and sat up straight, careful not to wake Aimeric, finally sleeping in his arms after a night of crying.

“I climbed some trees to get them.”

“Nicaise! You can’t do that. What if you fell!?” Laurent held him by the arm. “I appreciate it, but please don’t do it again.”

“Fine.”

Nicaise answered in a tone Laurent knew all too well. It meant _I’ll agree to get you off my back, but continue to do as I want_. If Laurent had the slightest bit of strength in his body, he might have argued back. He remembered how much easier it was to deal with Pallas and the corner of his mouth rose for a second.

Laurent took a peach from the pile and ate it. It felt so wonderfully tasty he thought he might live out of it for the rest of his life. It did not compare to the so-called “food” they ate in the camps. Laurent smiled and devoured the fruit while Aimeric slept, cozily resting on the small gap between Laurent’s bent legs.

“He’s cute.” Nicaise commented, sitting beside his father to eat. He leaned against Laurent’s shoulder and watched Aimeric.

“Isn’t he?”

“...Is he ours now?” Nicaise asked, hopeful eyes looking up to find Laurent’s.

Laurent sighed, brushing Aimeric’s hair away from his forehead. The baby moved, but did not wake. It felt strange to tell himself that he was now responsible for the child of a person he had known. He had met Théodore’s mother a few times, but their relationship felt purely professional. Both sides understood what would happen when the baby was born, and both agreed on it.

But with Loyse it was different. She never expected to get pregnant, to see her husband die, or to pass away a few months after her son had been born. And she definitely did not expect Laurent to ever become his legal guardian. It was a mere piece of paper she had probably written in a moment of despair. Yet, it was now proof that Aimeric belonged to Laurent. And that scared him. The paper was still inside the camps. Aimeric was his until someone inside the camp decided to tear or burn that paper, making him an orphan again. Laurent had not wished for another son, but he did not want to lose another one either.

The internal conflict got him thinking for far too long and before Laurent could answer Nicaise’s question, he was interrupted by the sound of a helicopter flying over their heads. He rose slowly and Nicaise followed him, hastily filling the pouch of milk bottles with the fruits he had found. Laurent considered what he should do next and came to the simple conclusion they had to disappear. Their clothes were dirty enough not to be seen from a helicopter, but his hair was easy to spot. Too easy. Laurent knelt and rubbed some mud from the ground it on his head.

“Nicaise, quick. Help me out.” Laurent asked. “I need to cover my hair.”

“Okay!” Nicaise dropped the bag and quickly threw a good amount of mud in Laurent’s head, rubbing it in.

“Be careful with Aimeric.” Laurent said, protecting Aimeric from the mud with his body.”

When Nicaise was done, Laurent rose and took his son’s hand so they would head deeper into the woods. Luckily, Aimeric still slept in Laurent’s arms, unaware of the dangers they faced.

The next two days were spent walking through the woods, feeding on fruits and drinking straight from the river Laurent hoped they would not die from. Luckily, Aimeric still had his milk bottles, so hunger had not become a great issue for him yet. Even so, Laurent made sure to feed him just enough for him not to starve, and felt frustrated to recall how Aimeric – despite not being even a year old – was more than used to starvation.

The days were warm, but the shades of the trees gave them some sort of comfort. The nights, however, were so cold Laurent feared Aimeric would not survive. They cuddled up in an improvised bed made out of leaves from the ground, trying to keep warm. Yet, nothing could keep them warm when it rained, on their second day out of the camps. Laurent used his odly to protect Aimeric and Nicaise from the rain, but that meant he barely slept that night. 

If those problems were not enough, Aimeric was filthy and his bottom had become scarlet with rashes from wearing only a single diaper. Laurent washed him a few times in the river, but the cold water made Aimeric cry even more than usual, and they could not afford to be heard. In his current state, Laurent would not even be able to hold back the guards and give Nicaise and Aimeric a chance to live. His shoulder hurt whenever he moved, the wound was probably starting to get infected and he was feverish. He would barely sleep, and when he managed to do so it was out of sheer exhaustion.

On the dawn of the third day, Laurent had actually started to imagine what would happen to those two children if he died. Nicaise was smart, but not old and wise enough to escape trained soldiers. Much less carrying a crying infant, which Laurent was not even sure Nicaise knew how to quiet. Laurent could _not_ die.

They had sat down to eat when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the woods. In a state of pure adrenaline Laurent’s tired body moved on it’s own to take Aimeric in his arms and rise. Nicaise was faster and by the time Laurent had risen, he was already tying up their pouch, ready to run. Laurent listened carefully to the footsteps. They were coming from the right, so Laurent discreetly pulled Nicaise by the arm so they would head left together. Laurent’s shoulder ached from that simple movement, but he disregarded the pain.

Their steps were soft against the ground, trying to be as silent as they could. It worked for a while before the tension, or perhaps the rough movements against his rashes made Aimeric whine in Laurent’s arms. Hidden behind a tree, he rocked the baby, trying to cease the soft whimpers. Nicaise stood close to his father, holding on to his coat so tightly the tips of his fingers were completely white.

When Aimeric cried it was not for long. Perhaps a minute or so, but in their situation a whole minute meant their deaths. When one of the soldiers shouted - _Over there!_ \- Laurent held Aimeric against his chest and ran, not caring if it only made his crying worse or if their feet broke dry leaves and sticks along the way. Nicaise ran beside him, holding onto the fruit pouch like his life depended on it. With Aimeric still wailing in his arms, Laurent tried to find a hiding place, but there were no more trees around them. Instead, there was a wide, open space, with a simple cabin a few feet away from where they stood. An Akielon man stood on the porch, his eyes meeting Laurent’s and so wide that, for a moment, Laurent thought he would yell for the guards to come.

Yet, with a glance upon the unusual movement in the forest, the man waved at them to get in. Laurent did not hesitate and rushed inside. The man did not dare to look them in the eyes as he pushed the thick carpet out of the way and opened a door to the basement.

“There are boxes in there. Use them to hide. And shut this baby up!” The man crudely ordered.

Laurent nodded and rushed down the stairs after Nicaise. Laurent skipped a few wooden boxes, without moving them aside, leading Nicaise into one on the back. Then, he found one for himself and Aimeric, covering his mouth and rocking him into quietness. From upstairs they could faintly hear people talking. Then footsteps, then furniture being moved around.

After a few minutes, there was silence and things seemed to have settled down. The box was too warm and Laurent was sweating from the heat and tension, yet he did not leave. Part of him wanted to tell Nicaise not to move, but he did not dare. There was no sound of Nicaise leaving his box, which made Laurent feel at ease for a moment.

The moment did not last long, though. A few seconds later, the door to the basement opened and they heard footsteps coming downstairs. Laurent still covered Aimeric’s mouth, trying not to be too rough and keeping the baby calm with soft kisses and taps on his back.

“...And here’s the basement.” The cabin’s owner spoke.

“What’s with the boxes?”

“Oh, just stuff for the house. You can check them if you want. There’s tools, clothes, food...”

Laurent had to be grateful for the aloof way the man spoke. Yet, his body struggled not to tremble, imagining what would happen if the soldiers actually decided to check the boxes. Laurent tried to think of ways to convince them not to kill them, but nothing came to mind. There was nothing he could say that would stop them from shooting them on the spot.

The footsteps got closer and Laurent actually saw, in his head, Nicaise getting shot to death. He regretted his actions and, in those few seconds of tension, he imagined how he would ever be able to tell Damen he had gotten their son killed, in case he survived. In his attempt to save them, he had brought Nicaise and Aimeric straight to their deaths. Aimeric squirmed and tried to cry, but Laurent did not move his hand away from his mouth.

When one set of footsteps approached their boxes, Laurent was sure it was over. He heard some boxes getting kicked, others being shook and, eventually, the box right next to his, in which Nicaise had hidden, was kicked, then opened. Laurent was about to move, to throw himself over Nicaise in a pathetic attempt to save him, but he stopped.

There was silence. No gunshots, no shouting, nor tears. Laurent waited. The only thing he heard was a soft “humph” from one of the soldiers.

“All right. Thank you for your time, sir. Sorry about the mess.” A soldier said and the footsteps climbed up the stairs.

“No problem at all. It’s part of your job.” The cabin’s owner followed them.

Laurent was desperate, wishing he could get out of that box and be sure Nicaise was alive and well. He kept still, his hand sweating on Aimeric’s tiny mouth and his head dizzy from the heat.

It took what seemed to be an eternity for the owner to return, rushing down the stairs and opening Laurent’s box. Finally able to breathe again, Laurent stood and Aimeric was finally allowed to cry. Laurent rocked him, trying to get him to stop as he approached Nicaise’s box. From Laurent’s point of view there was nothing but clothes inside. That was until Nicaise’s head popped out, his hair messy and sticking to his head from the sweat. Laurent knelt and squeezed Nicaise in a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re all right. You are so smart.” Laurent held Nicaise’s chin with one hand, making him look up.

“Listen, you gotta get out of here.” The owner of the cabin finally said. “I helped you on a whim, but I can’t have the military coming after me.”

Laurent nodded, turning to him.

“Yes, of course. Just give us some time. One or two hours, please.”

“You can stay until morning.” The owner looked at the two children as he spoke. “Shower, eat something, then leave.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much. We will leave first thing in the morning.” Laurent nodded, grateful and relieved.

They headed upstairs and the owner offered to prepare a meal for them. Nicaise insisted Laurent took a shower first and Laurent was not in the mood for an argument, so he agreed. He entered the bathroom and looked at all the bottles of shampoo, hair conditioner and soaps. He had almost forgotten bathrooms used to look like this. He remembered his own, so different from this one, in a house far away. A white, big house.

Laurent closed his eyes and imagined it. The house’s white facade, the door, the kitchen, the stairs they had once used as slides. Turning left on top of them, he would see Pallas’s room. The bed on the left, right next to the door; the desk on the right, filled with books, papers. On the back, a closet and a pile of clothes hiding a chair underneath. Looking around, back in the hallway, there was a bathroom, shared by the boys. Even though Laurent did not always witness it, sometimes he would find his son’s discussing in front of it over whose turn was it to use it. Laurent let out a breath of amusement.

Turning around, back to the stairs, but going right this time he would find Nicaise’s room. It had almost the same design as Pallas’s, but more fun. Sheets of the cartoons he watched in the morning, toys everywhere, colorful closets and furniture. Nicaise had always liked bright colors. On the opposite side, Théodore’s room. Light blue and white, decorated with delicate cloths, hypoallergenic plushies, a rocking chair and baby toys. Laurent would go inside and watch his son sleep, would feed him and play.

And at the end of the hallway, there would be the master suite. The large bed, the sliding glass door leading to the narrow balcony, in which he could find his husband leaning against the rails. A coffee cup had been left over the black rails, even though Laurent had told him so many times not to leave it there.

“Hello, my love.” Damen’s low, manly voice that could do anything but sing would greet him. “Welcome home.”

Damen turned and leaned against the rails again. He held a pen and a small crossword book they had been trying to solve together. It was not too hard, but having three children and a full-time job would leave them little time to be alone together.

“Come here. Help me with this.” Damen requested, offering his hand.

Laurent reached out, ready to take it before being interrupted.

“Is everything okay in there?”

A different, higher male voice brought Laurent back to the reality in front of him. The bathroom he was in was much smaller than his own, not as expensively decorated, with shower curtains instead of a glass door. Laurent looked down and saw the dirt on his clothes and body, along with the enormous amount of blood on his shirt and coat.

“Sir?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Everything is all right. I’m sorry. I’ll get in the shower.” Laurent replied and took off his clothes.

Without the adrenaline of escape, the pain on Laurent’s shoulder became excruciating. He got into the shower and turned the faucet. Being inside a proper home again felt strange, but nothing compared to the feeling of hot water falling on his body. The dirt from his hair and body accompanied the water down the drain. After a few minutes of movement from Laurent’s part, blood joined the dirt. Laurent closed the drain and used a towel to dry himself up, excluding the injury on his shoulder. Turning his back to the mirror, he looked back to check its condition. It looked awful. He would need a knife or something similar to remove the pus and the bullet.

Deciding to leave it for later, Laurent returned to the kitchen, where the cabin’s owner chatted with Nicaise while feeding Aimeric some milk. Nicaise stood on a wooden stool, stirring the contents of a pan, stealing cookies from a plate beside the stove.

“Nicaise, leave this to me and go take a shower.” Laurent said and Nicaise followed his orders. “Thank you for the shower, Mr.-...”

“...Lydos.” The owner replied and his eyes widened as he looked up and saw Laurent.

“Lydos. Nice to meet you. I’m Laurent.” Laurent said and checked the pan.

“Nice to meet you.” Lydos placed Aimeric’s glass on the table and tapped on his back to induce a burp. “Is this your actual hair color?”

Laurent chuckled at that. Sometimes, Akielons were all the same.

“Yes.”

“It’s nice. Never seen one like this.” Lydos tried to play it cool.

“Thank you.” Laurent put the contents of the pan in a bowl and the pan into the sink. “You can leave it to me. I apologize for your troubles. I thought Nicaise would take care of him.”

Laurent approached, motioning to take Aimeric.

“Oh, it’s fine. I didn’t let him. Sorry, I was worried because I don’t have a bottle. Besides, I really don’t mind. Your kids are nice.”

“I see. Thank you.” Laurent smiled, though part of him still felt guilt from assuming Aimeric as his own. “By the way, is there any chance you have a knife? One you don’t need anymore. It doesn’t have to be big.”

“Is this about the injury on your shoulder?” Laurent did not reply. “How bad is it?”

“...Bad.”

“I see. We’ll do it at night, after the kids are asleep.”

“Thank you.”

Aimeric burped, at last, and Lydos distracted him until Nicaise was out of the shower. Laurent took Aimeric and gave him a bath before they sat down to eat.

 

\-------------

 

It was around nine thirty at night. The children slept and Laurent lay on the couch, biting firmly on a cushion to contain his screams. It hurt so bad it was nearly unbearable. Lydos tried to be careful, but Laurent’s consciousness had briefly slipped away once or twice. The weak medication Lydos had given him seemed to have no effect.

“It’s done.” Lydos said.

“T-Thank you.”

Laurent used only his left arm to lift himself up. His right shoulder burned in pain.

“I treated it superficially, but I have no idea what I’m doing. You need to find a doctor. There is no hole on the other side, which means the bullet is still deep inside. And this looks infected as hell.”

Laurent nodded, still dizzy and trying to think about his next course of action. He had planned to cross the border to Patras, but he had not imagined he would get shot on his way out of the camps. Without a passport or money, he could not even receive treatment in a proper hospital.

Lydos turned on the television and Laurent sat up on the couch, covering himself with a blanket. The news were pretty much what Laurent had imagined. Vere being painted as a villainous nation that murdered Akielons for no reason at all. Of course they forgot to let people know Akielon soldiers were doing the same to Veretians in their own backyard.

Laurent leaned against the couch’s arm, his eyes slowly closing from exhaustion and the pain on his shoulder. His conscious had started to slip away when he heard something about a bomb in Ios. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself up instantly. The reporter was in a neighborhood relatively close to Laurent’s, showing and explaining the damages. The houses around her had crumbled, leaving little less than a few broken walls to remember its owners of their previous state.

Laurent caught himself standing, his hands tightly grasping the sheets that had been covering him. When a second reporter showed up, inside a shelter, Laurent tried to search the background for any signs of Damen and Pallas, but found none. He stopped his own mind from imagining a bomb falling on their house with them inside.

“Are you okay?” Lydos asked and Laurent nodded instantly.

“Yes. Yes, everything is fine.”

Laurent sat back down and waited, watching the news until the end. Whenever there were news of the bombings, Laurent would try to find Damen somewhere in the background, without much success. He was not sure if that made him scared or relieved.

When it was over, Laurent rose and headed to the bedroom Nicaise and Aimeric slept in. He closed the curtains, making sure they could not be seen from the outside and lay on the floor beside the bed, where Lydos had laid a thin mattress, much better than anything Laurent had had in the camps. Aimeric slept on an improvised bassinet made out of blankets and cushions, while Nicaise slept on his belly, his hand falling off the bed. Laurent took it and gave it a soft kiss. He turned to Aimeric, right beside his head and ran a hand on his belly. Taking a deep breath, he tried to sleep.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent left right after a reinforced breakfast, no later than five thirty in the morning. He briefly thanked Lydos and left in silence. They carried some fruits and bottles of water and milk as they rushed through the woods. Their bodies were still strained, but the meal had given them an energy boost.

However, the border to Patras was far. Much farther than Laurent had imagined. The forest ended almost abruptly and they were left with vast desert shrubland, with nothing but the contents of the small bag to satisfy their thirst and hunger.

If the precarious conditions were not bad enough, Laurent carried a restless Aimeric, while his whole body continued to fail him. He knew all too well the infection was getting worse by the second, but reaching Patras was still the only choice they had. Aimeric moved and whined loudly again, forcing Laurent to use his bad shoulder. The heat was making them both irritated and Nicaise noticed it.

“Dad, let me carry him.”

“No, Nicaise. It’s fine.”

“Dad, he won’t calm down. Let me try, you’re tired.”

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry.”

Nicaise inhaled deeply, frustrated and rushed to stand in front of Laurent.

“Stop being so stubborn and give him to me!”

“I suggest you lower your tone of voice right now.” Laurent told him, firmly.

“No! Why are you doing this!? Don’t you trust me!? I’m not a child anymore!”

Laurent was about to retort that, yes, he was, when Aimeric started crying, desperately squirming in Laurent’s arms. It was too much. The heat, the pain, the thirst, the hunger, two loud, restless children… Everything was so overwhelming and Laurent did not have the one thing that could always bring him peace: Damen.

“Take him!”

Laurent shoved Aimeric in Nicaise’s arms and opened up a bottle, drinking a large gulp of warm water. He stood a few feet away, where he could pretend to be by himself. He covered his ears to silence Aimeric’s crying, enhancing the fantasy of being left alone. It worked. His breathing returned to normal, his head was clearer and he finally opened his eyes.

The water bottle was still in his hand, open. He approached Nicaise and slowly let Aimeric drink the water. He choked once, but Nicaise was fast and tapped on his back. Laurent was admired at how responsible his son had become. After drinking a good amount of water, Aimeric struggled less, hugging Nicaise’s neck, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder. Nicaise caressed his back.

“You too.” Laurent said and tipped the bottle against Nicaise’s lips, leaving no room for arguing.

After that, there was a certain calm at walking slowly towards the border. The tension of having their backs watched still lingered, but even that seemed to have diminished. As though Laurent could see more clearly the next steps. Theirs and the army’s. Laurent would not let them get caught.

 

\-------------

 

Pallas was quiet the whole way. He did not want this. He did not want to leave his father in Ios, at the risk of getting killed while Pallas went to college in the safety of the countryside.

“Everything will be fine, Pallas. The company has sirens installed, I’ll be able to run away if anything happens.”

“What if there’s no time?”

“If you stay, we both die. And when your father returns-”

“Dad, he’s not comi-” Pallas started, his eyes teary.

“ _When your father returns_ ,” Damen rose his voice and spoke firmly. His hands squeezed the wheel of the rented car. “You need to be here.”

“And you don’t? What do you think father’s gonna do without you?”

“I’m not dying Pallas. This is just hypothetical.”

“Fine. _Hypothetically_ , what would he do if he knew that I left you to save my own ass?”

“This is not what’s happening here, Pallas!”

“Yes, it is.”

“Fine, you wanna go back?” Damen drove into the roadside and stopped the car. “Do it. Give up the college you worked so hard to get into. Give up all the years of school me and your father payed to let you have. Your father would _love_ to know you did that.”

Pallas lowered his head in silence, his eyes filled with tears. Damen took a deep breath and stroked his son’s back.

“Why are we fighting on your first day? This should be a happy moment. Look, everything’s gonna be fine. When war is over, you can change your campus back to Ios.”

“And what if it’s never over?”

“It will be. No war lasts forever. Just, please, go to college and study hard.”

Pallas nodded and Damen returned to the highway. They reached the university and Pallas gave him a long, tight hug before Damen left.

 

\-------------

 

Crossing borders was never something simple. Laurent remembered the unbelievably tall walls, keeping Vask isolated from the world. Next to that, Patras’s border seemed like child’s play. A simple wired fence that did not even compare to the ones at the confinement camp.

It seemed almost pathetic at first glance, but then Laurent noticed the signs. Electrified and reaching the end of a cliff. Wonderful. Laurent approached the cliff and realized it was much higher than he expected. The fence gave no room for them to go around it either.

“I can crawl under it and we can dig a hole from both sides for you.” Nicaise said, without a single hint of hesitation in his tone and arms crossed.

“You know you can’t touch the fence, right?”

Nicaise rose a daring eyebrow and lay on his back on the floor. Then, copying the smooth movements of a swimming frog, he passed under the fence like it was not even there. He rose, briefly cleaned himself up and opened his arms.

“Ta-da.”

Part of Laurent was as proud as could be. The other sort of wanted to curse at his son’s cockiness, but, in the end, he could not blame Nicaise. That same cockiness had probably been learned from Laurent himself.

They knelt in front of each other and started digging. Laurent used his right arm to keep Aimeric on his lap while using his left for digging. Nicaise used both hands at once. Both of them glanced around constantly, the threat of getting caught far from over.

When the whole was big enough for Laurent to pass, he took off his coat and wrapped Aimeric tightly on it. Aimeric struggled, but Nicaise managed to pull him to the other side and unwrap him. Laurent felt his heart beat faster as he crawled under the fence. He focused on the simple task of not touching the fence and was, for the first time in his life, momentarily glad to have been starved. If he had been properly fed as he was when he came to the camps, the task would have been much harder.

“Dad.” Nicaise’s eyes were widen as they focused on the small figure of a Patran border guard approaching.

“Go! Head to the city!” Laurent said, trying to cross the fence faster.

“But-”

“Please go! I’ll go later! Just go!” Laurent reached out and pushed Nicaise.

Nicaise hesitated, but rushed towards the city. The problem was the soldier decided to ignore Laurent and follow Nicaise. Laurent never thought it was possible to slid under a fence so fast without touching the wires, but he managed to do it.

The guard was obviously young and clearly terrified about the possibility of shooting a child. His hands trembled as he aimed. Laurent did not even hesitate to use that against him when the guard placed his finger on the trigger.

“Don’t shoot! Please, don’t shoot!” Laurent shouted, rushing towards the guard.

As expected, his nerves made him turn towards Laurent and shooting. Laurent stopped and rose his hands in surrender, trembling. The bullet had passed right by his side. The guard glanced back at Nicaise, but the boy was gone. Laurent let out a sigh of relief that lasted for less than a second. Nicaise was safe, but Laurent still stood, with his hand in the air, at gunpoint.

“You don’t have to do this.” Laurent pleaded. “I won’t cause you or your country any harm. Please, just let me help my children.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. You all can’t just invade our country.”

“We’re not! We’re simply looking for shelter. Please, you just saw my children. The older one is ten, the other is not even one yet. They can’t be left alone.”

The soldier swallowed loudly, glanced back looking for Nicaise for a mere second before his eyes returned to Laurent.

“Please, we can’t go back. They’ll kill us.”

“I can’t let you through. It’s my job. I can’t-!”

“I’ll handle this.” Another soldier, way more relaxed and a bit older, approached. “Go patrol the other side.”

“But, sir-!”

“You’re not going to shoot. Just go. It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone, just let me handle it.” The older soldier spoke in an easygoing manner. Pointing his gun at Laurent.

“Yes, sir.” The young soldier left, but Laurent kept his arms up.

“Veretian, right?”

“Yes.” Laurent replied, not even sure why his answer was relevant. “Please don’t shoot.”

“Shut up, I’m not gonna shoot you.” The soldier lowered his weapon and grabbed Laurent by the arm, taking him towards the city. “...Probably.”

 

\-------------

 

It took Damen a while to return home. Part of his still feared what he would _not_ find there. He went there on a Saturday Pallas would not be visiting him. As he walked through their street, the memories of the previous state of the houses came to mind. What once had been beautiful, luxurious homes now were nothing but piles of rubble. Some of them still kept the vague shape of a house, but nothing more. Damen took a deep breath and moved on to to their house. Or what was left of it. The sunny, breezy weather was so perfect it felt like it was mocking their tragedy.

The front door was blocked, so Damen went around, knocking down the flimsy gate leading to his backyard. His pool, once beautifully constructed, decorated with a few rocks and a cascade by the end of it was now a pile of rubble. The turbid water seemed to attract all sorts of organisms, who made it their nest.

Damen turned to the house and the back did not look any better than the front. Damen pushed some rubble to the side, creating a path to the destroyed back door. As he walked in he felt grateful Pallas had not come with him. The living room ceiling, which once held half of Pallas’s bedroom was gone. The explosion and the weather had completely destroyed their living room. There were still hints of it like the ripped couch or the broken television on the floor in front of it.

For a moment, Damen pictured how it used to be. Laurent sitting on the floor, in front of the couch, playing with Théodore. Nicaise would probably be close by, showing Théo his toys and explaining him something like the big brother he was. Pallas would come later, typing on his phone and lay on the couch, without taking his eyes of the screen.

Except Pallas was no longer a high-schooler, but a young man starting college. The image in Damen’s mind shifted to match the current year. Laurent did not change at all, he was still as gorgeous as the last time Damen had seen him. Nicaise was bigger, slowly leaving childhood to begin the shift towards teenage. And Théo, at three years old. No longer an infant, but a child. Damen struggled to picture what his son might look like and it frustrated him to realize he did not know.

The ring of his phone brought Damen back to reality. He took his phone out of his pocket, pushed a rock off his couch and sat on it before picking up.

“Hello?”

“Damen, where are you?” Damen rose the second he hear Nikandros’s voice.

“Nikandros! What’s going on!? Is everything all right!?”

“Damen, answer my question. Where are you?” Nikandros was cold. Unusually so.

“I-I’m at my house. I just came here to check out the damage.” Damen answered, furrowing his brows.

There was silence for a few long, tortuous seconds.

“Damen, I’m gonna ask you a question and you _have_ to tell me the truth.”

“...Okay.”

“Damen, I mean it. If you don’t tell me the truth, something awful may happen. Please, please tell me the truth.”

“Nikandros, what is going on? Why are you acting like this?” Damen was starting to get anxious from the suspense.

“...Have you seen or heard anything about Laurent?”

Damen’s brain went blank for a few seconds. His lips did not move, neither did the rest of his body. Laurent was supposed to be in the camps, where Nikandros would care for him. Why was he no longer there? Why was Nikandros asking about him?

“‘Seen’? What do you mean by ‘seen’? Nikandros, where is my husband!?”

“Damen, listen to me very carefully. If Laurent contacts you, in any way, you have to call the police immediately. Don’t try to help him.”

“Nikandros, _where is my husband_!?” Damen insisted.

“If you help him, you’ll be arrested. This is a serious crime. If you see him, call the police. Immediately.”

“Nikandros. Nikandros!” Damen shouted and heard the monotone tones of a hanged up call.

Frustration made him pace around the destroyed living room, throwing some of the rubble around. Nikandros was leaving him in the dark and Damen could not comprehend why he would do such a thing.

Still, Damen needed to find Laurent. Or at least leave him a message. If he were to return to their house in hopes to reunite with Damen, he needed a sign. Something simple, that showed Laurent he would be there, without serving as proof of Damen’s crime. Damen took a pen they used to write messages to each other and wrote on the walls. _I love you_ , followed by the date, it all written in Veretian. It Laurent would know he had been there and, if they were lucky, they would meet again at home.

 

\-------------

 

The soldier brought Laurent to a small village nearby. Laurent stared at the ground the whole time, searching for small footsteps that might match the size of Nicaise’s shoes, but found nothing. The soldier reached a big house heavily altered by the years passed. Its structure was damaged and the painting missing in some points. The soldier did not let go of Laurent’s left arm as he knocked on the door.

An older man, probably in his seventies opened the door. He had pale skin, blue eyes and a thick, and faintly brown, beard decorating his face. The man glanced at Laurent and then back at the soldier before reaching into his pocket. He took a few bills and handed them over to the guard, who let Laurent go instantly.

“See you later.” The soldier said and left.

Laurent watched him go in confusion.

“It’s our deal. Please come in. You’ll be safe here.” The man spoke Veretian, but Laurent hesitated.

“Daddy!” Before Laurent could say anything, Nicaise came running and hugged him.

“Nicaise! Are you all right!?” Laurent hugged him back. “Where is Aimeric?”

“He’s fine! He’s inside! The Doctor is taking care of him!” Nicaise said, looking at the elder who still stood beside them.

“Doctor?” Laurent asked.

“Well, yes. This is my hospital. It’s not the greatest, but it works.” The Doctor explained. “Please, come in.”

Laurent looked down at Nicaise and held his hand. They entered the house and The Doctor closed the door behind them.

As it turned out, the house worked as an impromptu hospital for Veretian refugees. The Doctor would bribe some of the soldiers to let them cross the border and treat them as he could. The equipment was outdated, but the place was clean and apparently, the few people there were properly being taken care of. It surpassed any facilities Laurent had seen in the confinement camps. He could not help but wonder if Loyse would have survived if she had received this sort of treatment.

The top half of the house served as a shelter for the refugees. They were nothing more than simple mattress, not much thicker than the ones they had in the camps. And yet, the difference was remarkable. Everything was clean, there were no cockroaches, no mice; every Veretian had their own bed and children as old as Nicaise did not have to share a narrow bed with their parents.

“You seem to need my assistance.” The Doctor said. “Your shoulder.”

“I don’t have money.” Laurent informed.

“I don’t need it. This way, please.” The Doctor gestured towards a door, a kind smile on his face.

Laurent got into the room and The Doctor asked Nicaise to be outside. The procedure would not be pretty, Laurent figured, so he also insisted Nicaise was left behind. The Doctor was professional and kind. Despite his suspicion, Laurent could not afford to refuse to undergo surgery to remove the bullet. When he woke up, after the surgery, the Doctor told him Lydos had done a good job for an amateur and that Laurent was very lucky. A few more days and he might be dead from the infection.

“I will leave you here for a while, all right? Nicaise can come in as much as he wants, but avoid holding Aimeric. You know how the little ones are.” The Doctor said, tapping his finger gently on Laurent’s intravenous tube.

“I understand. Thank you.” Laurent said. “Why are you doing this?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you helping Veretians?” Laurent asked.

“Well, I can’t just let my compatriots die, can I?” With a kind smile, the Doctor left.

Laurent might have argued, asked more questions, but the stretcher he lay on felt so soft and comfortable his whole body relaxed. Before he knew it, his eyes slowly closed again.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent could barely believe his luck to have found the Doctor. During the first two weeks he was cautious, slept with one eye open and keeping his sons under his wing. Nicaise had pulled his mattress together so he could sleep holding onto Laurent’s arm and Aimeric slept between them. The knife he had stolen from the camps was kept under his pillow. With time, Laurent learned to relax, to let more people interact with them and even let the Doctor take them for exams by themselves. After so many years of suffering inside those camps Laurent finally felt like he could finally stop being constantly paranoid and terrified about what the next day had in store for him.

Three weeks after they had arrived at the Doctor’s house, Laurent’s wound was healed and they were starting to gain some weight. They were still far from healthy, but Nicaise was playing again and Aimeric was clean, free of rashes. Since a few of the Veretians had been healthy enough to leave and find jobs, Laurent and his sons now had enough space to sleep without the fear of hitting someone during it.

“Look at all this space!” Laurent smiled, stretching his arms and legs on the mattress.

Aimeric climbed on his belly, trying to cross to the other side and Laurent pulled him, holding him above his own face, rubbing their noses together.

“Yeah.” Nicaise forced a smile and lay beside his father.

“What’s wrong? Oh, I know! You’re sad because you won’t get to sleep close to your beloved father!” Laurent mocked and pinched Nicaise’s legs. That earned him a chuckle.

“I’m thankful for that.” Nicaise said in his usual cocky tone. “But, for you, I’ll sleep by your side.”

Nicaise said and squeezed himself close to Laurent, barely leaving any space for Aimeric, who ended up lying on top of them both. Laurent found it strange. Much like Laurent himself, Nicaise was not one to be extremely affectionate and he had enjoyed sleeping relatively far from Laurent for a change. Still, Laurent did not think much of it, getting ready to sleep.

“Dad.” Nicaise spoke, after twenty or thirty minutes.

“Hm?” Laurent replied.

“How long are we going to be here?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Probably until we are better. We’re still malnourished. Why?”

“Nothing. I just,” Nicaise sighed. “I don’t like the Doctor very much.”

Laurent opened his eyes and furrowed his brows.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. He’s weird.”

“That’s not nice. Why are you saying that?” Laurent turned to face his son.

“Well, you know how dad Damen used to stroke our legs when telling us a bedtime story?”

The image came to Laurent’s mind instantly. Damen, laying on his side, a hand to support his head and legs falling off the bed much too small for him. He told the stories in whispers, acting them out, but trying not to get the children too excited. It never worked with Pallas, who would always request for “just one more”. Laurent allowed the corner of his mouth to rise as he remembered Damen softly stroking their legs and their children’s eyes slowly closing, fighting to stay open.

“I do.”

“When the Doctor does it, it’s nothing like that.” Nicaise firmly said.

“...What?” Laurent widened his eyes and sat up. “He strokes your leg?”

“Sometimes. But I’m okay!” Nicaise rushed to say. “Just-I don’t like the way he looks at Aimeric.”

“...Wh-What do you mean?”

“Whenever he examines him... He has this weird look in his eyes. It’s like the wolfs from a cartoon staring at a piece of meat.”

Laurent grew pale with every word. A shiver of disgust ran down his spine and his whole world seemed to crumble around him for the second time. He had nowhere to go, no money, did not speak a single word of Patran, and had to leave the one place he thought to be safe. He had trusted the Doctor, only to realize he had been lurking, waiting for an opportunity to take his children.

Laurent sat up, holding Aimeric close and used his blanket to tie him up against his body. Before Nicaise could ask what was happening he placed his finger in front of his mouth in a gesture of silence. Nicaise did not speak again.

He grabbed the knife from under his pillow and looked around. Besides a few diapers and rash cream for Aimeric, there was nothing inside the room that could be useful for him, so he took them and nothing more. He did not dare to risk opening the door leading to the corridor. He did not want to give the Doctor a chance to harm him and take Nicaise and Aimeric.

He escaped through the window. He offered his hand and Nicaise took it, escaping after him. In the darkness of the night, holding an infant, climbing down veranda a roof was not easy. He used the pillar, which held the roof in place to get down and pretended not to be terrified when it was Nicaise’s turn to do the same. He felt proud to see that Nicaise was much more skilled than he would ever be. The perks of being a child.

Rushing into the night, Laurent walked towards a road nearby. The best option for them was probably Bazal. The road was unbelievably long, yet they had no choice. Using the bright city lights, so far away, to guide them, they would walk their way towards the Patran capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the ending of this chapter was difficult to write. Urgh. Anyway, I hope it wasn't too much. (;ω;)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Here is chapter 8! This chapter will, unfortunately, be the last flashback chapter. I hope you have enjoyed them so far! (´ヮ`)  
> After this chapter the series will follow the current timeline story until its conclusion!
> 
> And speaking of conclusion, you might have noticed I updated the chapters for this work. There will be eleven chapters in total! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story and, without further ado, here is new new chapter!

Erasmus was, in every sense of the word, a good boy. His boss always complimented him, saying how his flower arrangements were beautiful and he how diligent he was. Erasmus’s cheeks would turn pink as he bashfully thanked his boss for the kind words. He also payed all his bills right away, always obeyed the rules and even did some volunteer work when he had the time.

But good boys are allowed some moments of naughtiness. And it was exactly what Erasmus felt as he met Torveld after work that day. Bold, daring and proud of himself. They had met when Torveld had come to the shop, looking for a new apartment plant for himself.

As soon as Torvel entered, Erasmus could feel his cheeks flushing. The way Torveld portrayed himself, so polite and luxurious made Erasmus’s hear beat faster. The man had a certain royal quality to him as he approached the balcony.

“Hello.” Torveld said, staring right into Erasmus eyes. Torveld had an accent which Erasmus did not know, but found pretty.

“Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?”

“Yes, huh, could you suggest me a flower to keep in my apartment? Something low maintenance, if possible.”

“Yes, sure! Right this way.”

The conversation was filled with mild, yet irresistible flirtation. So much even Erasmus – Who did not have the ability to comprehend flirtation in any other situation – could notice. Erasmus imagined what kind of man he was, but there was no clue besides his expensive suit. Perhaps he was someone important and way out of Erasmus’s league.

Torveld left with a Spider Plant and a smile that made Erasmus’s legs wobble. As soon as Torveld walked out the door, Erasmus threw himself on his chair behind the counter and placed his hand over his heart. His cheeks and ears burned as he caught himself, for the first time in his life, imagining what an unknown man’s kiss would feel like.

 

\-------------

 

The first time Torveld took Erasmus on a date, it was at a restaurant so exclusive Erasmus felt inappropriate simply for being there. Perhaps the gap between their world was too big to ignore. Still, when Torveld took Erasmus’s hand in his Erasmus’s mind melted from the touch. They talked about each other, asked questions, but the easiness of it was similar to the discussion about plants at the store. It was so interesting Erasmus nearly forgot where he was and the tension from his lack of status was gone.

At the end of the evening, Torveld volunteered to pay a car for Erasmus, who felt the need to refuse after having received a free dinner. Torveld nodded and dared to hold Erasmus’s hand in his again, leaning in. Erasmus was not used to it and got nervous, but Torveld never pushed. He paused a few inches away and waited for Erasmus to kiss him. Erasmus did. The sudden boldness was accompanied by the wish to go further; to kiss longer, perhaps to even do more.

The whole feeling was new to Erasmus and he felt like a spectator to his own body as Torveld offered him a ride home instead of calling a car. Even to Erasmus it was clear this was not what Torveld meant. They would reach Erasmus’s house, but not before stopping somewhere.

Erasmus assumed Torveld did this a lot, with many people, but even so he wished to go through with it. Even if this was a one time thing, he wanted to be daring enough to do something crazy at least once in his life. His beliefs were contradicted as he noticed Torveld glancing around, as if searching for something.

“I-I’ve never done this.” Torveld laughed. “I have no idea where I should go.”

“Turn left here.” Erasmus said.

It was not a decent place. But, in Erasmus mind, he did not care. That car was the fanciest place he could think of, so he guided Torveld to an empty parking lot close to a store he liked. Torveld laughed, looking around.

“Here!?”

“I-Is this okay?” Erasmus flushed. Of course such a man would not accept this. Torveld could probably afford the best hotel in the country.

“With you anywhere is okay.” Torveld placed his hand on Erasmus’s thigh.

Erasmus did not go on many dates, and when he did he did not sleep with the person on the first one. In fact, Erasmus had never slept with anyone, ever. But Torveld brought out the “worst” in him, and Erasmus loved it. He felt free, excited, in love; all at once. It was an uncontrollable feeling that took over him and did not allow his mind to work properly.

Erasmus was a good boy. He was not the type of guy to lose his virginity on the back of an expensive car, on the first date with a man that had been suspiciously confident about the whole thing. Enough to have everything they needed on the glove compartment. At least Torveld had the decency of being embarrassed about it and flushing when Erasmus laughed at his readiness. And, with a kiss, granted Torveld permission to have him.

 

\-------------

 

Torveld had established, from the beginning that his relationship with Erasmus would have to be kept hidden. Torveld was the CEO of subsidiary of one of the biggest trading companies in Patras. But the first time Torveld told him about his conditions, Erasmus felt ashamed and simply agreed. Despite being Akielon, Erasmus had always been excluded or bullied for his white skin inherited from his mother. People thought of him as Veretian and treated him as such. Erasmus was a fool to imagine Patrans would be any different.

“You’re quiet.” Torveld said, drinking some water from the minibar of the motel room they were at.

“I-I don’t think-” Erasmus struggled. “I don’t think this is working.”

“Hm? What’s not working?” Torveld sat on the bed where Erasmus leaned against the headboard.

“I don’t want to,” Erasmus sighed. “To be your little… Plaything. I’m sorry, I-I really like you but,”

“Erasmus, wait, wait.” Torveld rose his hand between them, his brows furrowing. “Why are you saying this? I thought you understood.”

“Yes, I know you’re ashamed of me, but I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Ashamed of you? When did I ever say that!?” Torveld’s eyes were widened.

“You don’t want to tell anyone about me, you send cars to pick me up, we come to these expensive hotels so it’s all confidential...”

“Because of you!” Torveld held Erasmus’s hand. “Erasmus, I did all this because of you. I mean, yes, people might talk about me, but I don’t care. I’m a CEO, I have my life on the right tracks… If all this surfaces, it won’t affect me as much. But you, you have your whole life ahead of you. I don’t want people to talk about you and think of you as some sort of gold digger.”

Erasmus wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at Torveld’s. For a moment there he wondered if he could trust him.

“Give me your phone.” Torveld asked.

“Why?”

“I’ll prove to you that my reputation is not what I’m worried about.” Torveld answered, putting the water bottle on the nightstand.

Erasmus handed him his phone and Torveld started recording himself.

“I’m Torveld and I’m here on this nice motel with my boyfriend Erasmus.” Torveld started and sat beside Erasmus, pulling him into the shot by the ear. Erasmus laughed at that. “This guy here.”

“Torveld, stop!”

“No.” Torveld went back to filming himself. “I love him with all my heart and I will never deny my relationship with him. He’s everything to me.”

Torveld finished the video and handed the phone back to Erasmus.

“You now have the power. You hold the cards. If you publish this anywhere our relationship will be out in the open. If you ever wish to do so, it’s all right. But, if I could recommend, I would wait for you to be older and have a more established life. But, of course, this is just an old man giving you advice. If you really wish to publish it, you can.”

Erasmus put his phone on the nightstand and ran his hands on Torveld’s nape as they kissed.

“I love you. And that will never change.” Torveld assured him.

“I love you too.”

 

\-------------

 

Erasmus hummed a little song as he arranged the flowers. His boss teased him about being happy and his cheeks turned pink as he told him he had been meeting his boyfriend. His boss found it funny how excited Erasmus would get over such a simple matter. He rose and placed his newly finished arrangement on display. At the other side of the glass he saw a military truck park in front of the shop and several soldiers come out carrying large guns.

Erasmus was scared and stepped back, wondering what kind of danger could have brought the military to such a peaceful part of town. He got even more scared when two or three soldiers entered the shop. He glued his back to a wall and looked around, trying to understand what was happening until the soldiers surrounded him.

“Sir, you are under arrest. Please come with us.”

“W-What!? M-Me!?” Erasmus looked at his boss, who seemed equally at a loss. “But I haven’t done anything!”

“All Veretians and half-breed are being taken into confinement.”

“I-! Wait, please!” Erasmus tried to release himself from the soldier’s grip on his arm, but lacked the strength. “Mr. Atkis! Mr. Atkis, please! I swear I haven’t done anything!”

Erasmus’s boss tried to argue in his favor, but it was futile. They took his belongings away and Erasmus was thrown on the back of the truck with unnecessary roughness. The last thing Erasmus saw before the doors shut was his boss on the phone, calling someone.

 

\-------------

 

Erasmus was still adapting to the new environment when the soldier handed him a wailing infant and gave him the vague instruction: “Have this. You’re responsible for it now.”. Before Erasmus could reply or ask any further questions, the soldier shoved a bag in his hand and left.

Lost, Erasmus paced around the room, trying to calm the baby down. A young man around Erasmus age approached and took the liberty of holding the baby, rocking him gently. Erasmus, once again, did not have time to react. He watched as the baby slowly got quiet, his tiny hand holding tight to the man’s shirt.

“Wow. You’re really good at this.” Erasmus admitted.

“I worked at a daycare for a while. Babies are cute when there’s only one. Try putting ten inside a room and you’ll see what hell is like.” He replied.

“Hm… I’m Erasmus.” Erasmus offered his hand.

“Kallias.” He shook Erasmus’s hand. “What did they give you?”

Kallias nudged towards the abandoned bag over Erasmus’s bed. Erasmus sat down and opened it. Kallias, once again, took liberties and sat down in front of him.

“I have powder... Toilet paper?” Erasmus rose an eyebrow.

“Really? Not even some wet wipes or rash cream?”

“No.” Erasmus put it back and reached for the bottom of the bag. “Diapers.”

“How many?”

“Huh...” Erasmus counted. “Five!”

“Five!?” Kallias checked the bag, confirming the number of diapers himself. “All right, listen to me you gross little drool ball.”

Kallias held the baby by the armpits, in front of his face.

“Control yourself and don’t poop more than once a day, you hear me?”

“Is this not enough? How many times do we change his diaper? And how do I even do it?” Erasmus was at lost and, in all honesty, terrified that such a small person could expel so much out of his tiny body.

“Ugh, calm down, blondie. I’ll help you. Everything will be fine.” Kallias said and handed the baby back to Erasmus. “We’ll take good care of him.”

 

\-------------

 

Caring for a child was, as Erasmus realized, much more difficult than he had previously thought. If not for Kallias, Erasmus might have never been able to keep a baby satisfied, clean and alive. He would have to choose two out of three and ignore the other one. With time, though, he learned how to be a good enough foster parent.

He had also learned how incredible children could be. Erasmus had always found them somewhat cute, but he had never had experienced what it was like to see a child growing, learning new things everyday. The first time he witnessed it was when Théo stood up on his own for the first time. It was not planned, nor something Erasmus expected to happen. In his eyes, Théodore was still a clumsy little ball of cuteness.

“There you go. All clean and ready for bed.” Erasmus told him as he finished changing his diaper.

With a kiss on Théo’s cheek, Erasmus walked up to Kallias’s bed.

“Good night, uncle Kallias.”

“‘Night, loser.” Kallias joked and squeezed Théo’s cheek. “And to you too.”

Kallias said to Erasmus and patted him on the arm. Erasmus flushed in shame as he caught himself wanting the touch to last a little longer. When Kallias caressed his hand, Erasmus let him, just for a moment before forcing himself to interrupt.

“Good night.”

Erasmus whispered and returned to his bed. Théo was restless, so Erasmus decided to let him crawl around the bed for a while. Théo crawled up to the pole which held the bed above theirs and grabbed it, slowly pulling himself up before letting go. Erasmus widened his eyes and rushed to hold him. But he did not. Following Kallias’s suggestion to “let Théo do things on his own”, Erasmus placed his arms around Théo, making sure he could hold him if needed, without touching.

“Kallias! Kallias, look!” He called and someone inside the barracks shushed him. “Sorry.”

“What?” Kallias rose and approached. “Look at that! You’re standing on your own. What a smart boy.”

Kallias squeezed Théo’s cheek, making him laugh and fall on his bottom. Erasmus reacted by holding him, but there was no need. Kallias squeezed Théo’s little thighs, making him laugh and squirm. Erasmus looked into Kallias’s eyes and, for a moment, his heart beat faster. The very next second, the image of Torveld, smiling at him came to mind. Erasmus closed his eyes, trying to take his mind out of both of them. It was not the time.

“Well, I’m going back to bed. You don’t do anything cool until tomorrow, you hear, me?”

While pointing a finger at Théo’s face, Kallias left.

 

\-------------

 

Erasmus was called out as he left to the mess hall after breakfast. Distracted by the conversation with Kallias, he did not see a soldier purposely stand in his way, bumping into him.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” The soldier pushed Erasmus.

“Hey, don’t push him! You got into his way!” Kallias said.

“What did you say, half-breed!? Want a punishment!?” The soldier pushed Kallias as well.

“Wait! Stop! Please!” Erasmus said and rocked the baby before handing him over to Kallias. “Here, take the little one. I apologize, I was wrong. Please don’t punish him.”

“Erasmus!” Kallias shouted, taking the infant.

“Fine, you’ll do.” The soldier grabbed Erasmus by the arm and took him to another room. “Now, listen to me.”

Erasmus waited quietly for a punishment that never came.

“Head to the right side of the yard when you leave. The baby’s father will be there.”

“What!? My baby? I mean, the one I’m caring for!? His father is here!?” Erasmus widened his eyes and approached the soldier.

“Yes, now be quiet. He’s in the Veretian’s section. And you have not heard this from me. Say anything and I’ll make your life a living hell.”

Erasmus nodded and was allowed to leave. When asked about the punishment, he stated that a superior officer judged it to be unnecessary. Kallias did not seem to buy it, but said nothing. They ate together, but did not leave for the yard immediately. An order had been issued to postpone the sun break. Erasmus understood what it meant. Whoever this child’s father was, he had influence inside the camp.

 

\-------------

 

Kallias was the first to notice the unfamiliar face staring at them during the sun break. The man did not look Akielon, but his skin was as dark as Kallias’s. He watched from inside the building, focusing on Erasmus as he spoke to the officer beside him. Erasmus was too busy entertaining Théodore to realize it.

When they returned to the barracks, a soldier pointed at Erasmus and Théodore, ordering them to get up and follow him. Erasmus looked at Kallias, who seemed as lost as he was. Erasmus was pulled and forced to leave the barracks. There was no consideration for Théodore when they were taken outside, though. His short legs struggled to keep up with the large steps of the soldiers, so Erasmus held him in his arms. Erasmus did not have more than a minute or two to realize how strange it was to be on the other side of that fence.

The soldiers put them inside a truck just like the one they had been brought in and slammed the door. Théo held tight on Erasmus’s shirt and looked up. His blue eyes bright, even with the lack of light.

“Erasmus, where are we going?” He asked in a whimper.

“I’m not sure. But we’ll be fine, okay? Don’t worry.”

 

\-------------

 

The first time Lazar saw Pallas was on his first day of school. He had been transferred to Akielos due to his father’s work and thought it would be a tiresome and awful experience. Of course that changed the second he saw Pallas’s perfect bottom parading around the school, swaying gently as he moved. Lazar’s first instinct was to say something. Bring attention to himself with a joke or perhaps a deviously snark comment. The problem was his Akielon teacher had taught him many things, but catcalls were not one of those things.

So he whistled. And bit his lip. Pallas turned and everyone in the hallway now stared at him, which – though he would never admit – did make Lazar relatively self-conscious. But if Pallas accepted him, he would pay them no mind. At all.

Pallas struggled with it and it was clear. The way he looked at Lazar from top to bottom, wondering if it would be all right to accept the courting attempt and if people would mind. Lazar waited, calmly, until Pallas to pull himself together.

“Yes?” Pallas sounded daring, almost offended, yet his eyes fixated themselves on Lazar’s and his bottom lip hid under his teeth.

“Nice ass.” Lazar spoke in Veretian.

Pallas’s eyes widened and he flushed. Lazar took the opportunity to approach him, just enough so that their talk could not be overheard but not invading Pallas’s personal space. The corner of his mouth rose as he whispered as sensually as he could.

“Would love to see it one of these days.”

Pallas frowned and slapped Lazar across the face.

“Excuse me!? Have you no shame!?” Pallas asked in Veretian.

Lazar took a step back, in shock. Not only Pallas was much stronger than he seemed, but he could also understand what Lazar spoke. And a small part of his heart _did_ feel shame. It was easy being brave when he believed Pallas did not understand Veretian.

“Huh-I-…” Lazar brought his fingertips to where Pallas had hit him.

“Screw you, asshole.” Pallas turned on his feet and walked away.

 

\-------------

 

Lazar ignored the glares well enough. He did not care one bit if some damn barbarians liked to frown upon him. But the one glare he could not stand was Pallas’s. He had a certain coldness and superiority that reminded Lazar too much of home. So much that, for a while, Lazar wondered if he was mixed.

Pallas sat on the opposite side of the classroom, and yet Lazar could not take his eyes off him during classes. The teacher had warned him he should pay attention to the class, but Lazar had barely listened to that either. He spent half the classes trying to use a dictionary, and by the time he found the word he needed, the whole sentence had been forgotten and a new one was surging to confuse him even further.

After his post-class talk with the teacher, Lazar was allowed to go have lunch. He bought it on the - now vacant and nearly empty - cafeteria and sat outside to eat. Lazar looked at everyone around him. There was not a single white-skinned person around. He rose his own hand and wondered if he spent enough time on the sun he might get tanned as an Akielon. Then he laughed at his own silliness.

“Hey.” A voice called and Lazar looked up.

Under the green leaves of a tree, bathing in the sunlight that peeked through them, was Pallas. As gorgeous, and with eyes as cold as Lazar remembered. Pallas spoke Veretian.

“Why, hello there.” The corner of Lazar’s mouth rose in his typical smirk.

“Why won’t you tell the teacher you’re having problems with Akielon?” Pallas was straightforward, that he could tell.

“Because it’s none of their business. I can’t have teachers babying me all the time. I live here now, I gotta learn.”

“But you’re not. Not like that.” Pallas said. “If you want, I can help you.”

“Oh, really?” Lazar’s smirk grew wider.

“You know what? Never mind.” Pallas turned on his heels, ready to march away.

“No, wait!” Lazar rose and his smirk vanished. “I’d like that.”

“I’m not hitting on you. Just so you know.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Pallas turned and left Lazar alone.

Lazar sat back down, finished his sandwich and triumphantly smiled.

 

\-------------

 

The first time Pallas brought Lazar home was after school, to study. He had asked Laurent for permission beforehand but had, “forgotten” to mention Lazar was Veretian. When Lazar walked into the house, Laurent rose his eyes from the dining table he had been wiping and stared for quite a while.

“Hello.” Laurent approached, leaving the cloth on the table.

“Huh, hey, dad. This is Lazar. My friend from school.”

“Nice to meet you, Lazar.” Laurent offered his hand.

“Nice to meet you!” Lazar shook his hand, much too relaxed and familiar for a first time meeting parents.

“We’ll be studying in my room.” Pallas told him.

“Sure.” Laurent said and slightly rose his eyebrows, his expression reminding Pallas of the rule to keep his door open.

Pallas nodded and went to his room. Lazar followed him and they sat on Pallas’s bed to study. They took a break after an hour or so and Pallas decided to show Lazar around his house. After a tour, including the baby’s room which eagerly awaited its owner, Pallas returned to his own room.

“You really got it going on here, huh?” Lazar mocked, smirking. “Huge ass house, nice pool, hot father...”

Pallas rolled his eyes and walked in, ready to go back to study. Lazar walked in beside him and took his hand. Pallas flushed, turning around to find Lazar so close their eyes met on their nose bridges. Pallas barely realized how close he was to the wall until he had been pressed against it, Lazar’s lips on his. Pallas melted into the touch, his world spinning before completely fading around him. Lazar’s body pressed against his own and it felt hot. Pallas came back to his senses from realizing he was getting much too excited for a first kiss. He pushed Lazar away, just enough for them to separate, their breaths harsh.

“Well,” Lazar chuckled. “I was gonna ask if it was okay but you clearly enjoyed it.”

Lazar glanced down and Pallas punched his chest, frowning.

“You’re so inappropriate!”

“And yet you _love_ me.” Lazar sang the last word, bearing the cheekiest of smiles and Pallas wanted to slap that face, then kiss those lips once more.

“Shut up.”

 

\-------------

 

Damen was scared when he returned from a meeting to find twenty seven new messages from Laurent. Not even daring to sit down at his desk he read them, just to realize it was nothing more than a “play-by-play” report on Pallas and his “friend”.  


**From: Laurent**

_[Pallas's friend is Veretian!] 16:14_

_[His name is Lazar]_   _16:15_

 _[Studying together. Th_ _ey seem to like each other] 16:42_

_[Touring the house.] 17:48_

_[Pallas is teaching him Akielon. Does this story sound familiar? LOL] 18:13_

_[I bet he's gonna end up with a bunch of kids] 18:20_

Damen read those messages and had to hold back a laugh. He ran a hand over his face and tried to focus on his work. They would have a lot to talk about that night.

 

\-------------

 

On the first anniversary of the Veretian Purge Pallas had spent over five minutes in bed, thinking. One year without his father, without listening to Théodore’s laugh or playing with Nicaise. One whole year without his boyfriend. He got up before he would allow himself to cry. Pallas hid his feelings from Damen and tried to be as natural as possible as he was taken to school.

As he walked in the noticed the strange atmosphere. Almost every student he crossed paths with glanced his way and even his friends said nothing more than the usual greetings. Pallas tried to ignore all this and focus on his classes.

He was eating alone during lunch when a small group of extremists approached him. Pallas sighed at that, knowing exactly what would come next. He ignored their mockery, finishing his lunch and leaving. One of the boys got in his way, though, and by the time Pallas realized it, he was surrounded.

“Move.” Pallas asked.

“Nah. I’m good here. Besides, I haven’t even started to talk about your family. Tell me, how’s your little brother?” He asked in fake concern.

“...Don’t you dare talk about him.” Pallas ordered between greeted teeth and clenched fists.

“Why not? Oh, right… It’s not right to mock the dead.” Another exaggerated act as a reply.

“Shut the fuck up!” Pallas grabbed the boy by the shirt, his heart beating desperately fast and his body trembling with rage.

“Whoa, whoa! What’s up with that? Why are you concerned now? You didn’t seem very concerned at the time!”

“...Excuse me!?” Pallas rose an eyebrow, incredulous.

“Well, you know… The only reason he was taken was because you were getting some Veretian cock, you slut.” The boy had a triumphant smile when Pallas slowly let go of him.

It all became obvious. If Pallas had not been with Lazar, if he had returned to class sooner and read Laurent’s messages he could have had time to take Nicaise out of the school before the invasion. Pallas was baffled at himself for not realizing it sooner. He was the reason his little brother had been taken and was now trapped in a confinement camp.

The boy tidied up his shirt and nodded at his friends. In the middle of the back yard, under the watch of nearly everyone at school, Pallas was beaten up to the sound of cheers of _Fight! Fight! Fight!_. Without the means or the will to defend himself, his whole body hurt. And yet, nothing had hurt more than to hear what his bully said when they were done:

“I hope it was a good fuck, because you paid for it with that piece of shit that you call a brother.”

 

\-------------

 

Auguste’s golden hair drew too much attention even in the darkness of the night, so he hid it under a beanie and hoped to go by unnoticed. He pulled a young woman by the hand, her skin wildly contrasting with his own. In her arms, her baby girl slept silently and unaware of the tension surrounding them; by her side, her little brother, now an orphan, like her.

“Everything will be fine. My house is right over there.” Auguste reassured them.

They were quick, but silent as they entered an alley. Auguste could see his apartment across the main street, and yet the most difficult part of their route was yet to come.

“Stay here. Hide beside this dumpster. I’ll check the streets.” Auguste said and helped the young woman to kneel.

Aquitart was a small town. At one in the morning, most its inhabitants were already sound asleep in their beds. But it was not exactly the case that day. There were no citizens on the streets, but military soldiers roamed around, looking for Akielons that might have been left behind after the Purge.

Auguste had barely left the alley when two soldiers approached him, pointing their guns to his head. Wearing so many layers of clothes, Auguste could not be recognized as a Veretian in the middle of the night.

“Hands in the air!”

“I’m Veretian.” Auguste said as he raised his hands and lifted his head, so they could clearly see his face.

“Good evening, sir.” The soldiers lowered their weapons instantly. “We apologize for our behavior. We were looking for any remaining Akielons.”

“I understand.” Auguste smiled kindly. “You were doing your job. Please carry on keeping our city safe.”

“We appreciate your understanding. You may go.”

They nodded and hopped back on the truck and left. Auguste slowly walked to the opposite side, pretending to be on his way home. He turned left on the next corner and walked around the block, returning to the same place he had left the young woman.

She was startled by his presence, but accepted the hand he offered as soon as she recognized him. The group quickly made their way into Auguste’s building and took the stairs instead of the elevators. There were no security cameras on his floor either, so they would be fine.

“You are safe now.” Auguste said as he unlocked the door to a wide apartment, filled with Akielon refugees.

One of the older men recognized the woman and she cried out of relief. Her little brother ran up to the elder’s wife and hugged her. Auguste locked the door again and removed his scarf and beanie.

“Mr. Auguste!” One of the children approached him, holding a drawing. “Look, I drew you!”

The young girl handed Auguste a drawing of a big yellow abstract design.

“Wow, that’s a lot of yellow! I think it looks very good!” Auguste said. “I will put it in my special secret box, with the others, all right? I’m looking forward for your next drawing.”

The young girl smiled and Auguste could swear he saw the hint of a blush in her cheeks. It was hard to tell, though.

Auguste went into his room, hiding the little girl's drawing in a box inside his closet, filled with small presents the children had given him. He took a few clothes and waited in line to take a shower. Those waiting, offered him their places, but Auguste refused to take it. _You’re always quick. Don’t worry._ , he replied and waited for his turn.

There were now about fifteen people living inside his house. Hiding them all was getting harder and harder. Luckily, in times of war, people brought more supplies than necessary in case of an emergency. Auguste might be perceived as a lunatic, but at least he could feed them. Showers had to be taken quickly and every other day, so it would not raise many suspicions.

Despite being able to deal with it, Auguste still needed to find them a route leading to Patras. Going back to Akielos through the border had become an impossible task, since Delfleur had been completely turned into a battlefield. He thought of it while squeezing himself between two men on the floor of his living room, since his bed had been given to the children and the floor of his room to the women. If things kept going this way, eventually, he would need a bigger apartment.

 

\-------------

 

Nikandros was losing his mind. He had endured harsh training, was mentally strong and from a very early age always knew what he wanted for his life. From the very moment he first thought he had about the future, at three or four years old, he wanted to be a soldier and protect people. Yet, he was now losing his strong mind over his best friend’s god damn husband who did not seem able to, as Pallas would say: Chill.

One day. Laurent had been punished in less than a single day inside the camps. And if that was not bad enough, Nikandros’s subordinate had shaved Laurent’s precious little golden hair. Nikandros sighed, just imagining what Damen would say if he saw that. “Blonde” was always the first term Damen used to describe Laurent, even before the pale skin.

And if Laurent causing him problems was not enough, he had to deal with call after call from Damen himself, asking questions. _Where are they?_ , _Are they all right?_ , _How come you don’t know?_ , _Why are you lying to me?_. Damen was like an unstoppable questioning machine and Nikandros was tired of it. He had to let Damen know something.

With that thought, he went back home, changed into his hoodie and left to Damen’s house. As he entered Damen’s street he pulled the hoodie to cover himself and headed towards Damen’s house.

He found it dirty, like he had never seen before. It’s white facade was tainted with the remains of black ink. Nikandros could still faintly see the words written there and felt enraged. Laurent was not what the husband Nikandros had ever expected Damen to have. But having him called “Veretiam scum” and, above all, having _his children_ – one an infant, for God’s sake! - insulted was something Nikandros would never accept.

Trying to ignore it, he looked around before ringing Damen’s doorbell. He had to calm himself one more time when Damen opened the door holding a bat. Damen was not like that. He obviously had a reason and Nikandros did not even want to know what it was at that moment. Without exchanging a single word, Damen stepped aside and Nikandros walked in.

 

\-------------

 

When Nikandros received a call from Torgeir asking to have dinner with him he thought nothing much of it. He found it strange how they were given a private room in the restaurant Torgeir had chosen, but the man was rich now. The figure before him was no longer the soldier he had met during a joint training with Patras. Torgeir was now a businessman.

“Look at you all fancy.” Nikandros mocked as Torgeir walked in.

“Look at you, still military trash.” Torgeir let out a breath of amusement and shook Nikandros’s hand, bringing him closer for a quick hug and a pat on the back.

They sat down and discussed a few unimportant matters before Nikandros finally asked:

“So, is there a purpose to our little dinner or you just wanted to catch up so much you came all the way from Patras to see me?”

“Sorry, I don’t like you that much.” Torgeir mocked and drank from his glass. “I want to do business with you.”

“And what can this military trash possibly have to offer?” Nikandros snorted.

“People.” Torgeir was suddenly serious and the air around them felt heavy.

“...What?”

“More specifically, a young man. He’s in one of the camps, I don’t know which one.”

Nikandros’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. Not a single word came out and his brain seemed frozen in time.

“I don’t care what you tell your boss. Tell him what he needs to hear to let me take this boy out of there. Don’t let him know this, of course, but I’m willing to pay as much as he wants.”

“Wh-What? Why? What are you going to do with him?” Nikandros frowned. He had never imagined Torgeir being such an awful person before.

“Nothing.” Torgeir shrugged. “Well, I’ll probably give him a job, or at least make sure he’s being taken care of. He’ll be given a house, food… Freedom.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“He’s important to someone I know. And I can’t let him stay in the camps. I’ve been on the army, I’m sure they are not receiving any sort of preferential treatment when it comes to food or medication.”

Nikandros could not deny it. With the lack of resources, those higher in the hierarchy had preferential access to them. And inside the camps, the hierarchy was simple: Veretians and half-breeds received the scraps of whatever was left.

Still, selling people to some random businessman would not be easy. Nikandros needed to prove to his superiors that Torgeir would keep his mouth shut and that might cost him everything he had worked his whole life for. And that would be the best case scenario.

“And how do you expect me to sell you a person?”

“The boy is mixed. He belongs nowhere according to the current state of events. So I’m assuming your superiors won’t have much to fear. The money will come straight to their doors in a pretty suitcase. All they have to do is get rid of a few mouths to feed and receive a lot of money in exchange.”

It sounded tempting, Nikandros knew it. Torgeir had thought this through. He had planned every step of the way and all Nikandros needed was to send the message to his superiors. The one problem was needing to put his whole life in the hands of an old friend.

“You will not speak of this. You hear?”

“Of course.”

“Let me see him.” Nikandros requested.

Torgeir pulled his cellphone from the inner pocket of his expensive jacket, swiped a few times looking for the picture and showed it to Nikandros. Then, it was like a light had lit on Nikandros’s mind. A way to solve half his problems at once.

“I accept, if you will do me one more favor.” Nikandros stated.

“And what would that be?”

“You have to take a child as well.”

 

\-------------

 

Nikandros honestly, from the bottom of his heart, was trying to keep Laurent alive. He was. But it became harder and harder considering, now, _he_ was the one wishing to kill him. Nikandros was at his office, working things out with Torgeir’s employee when he heard glass breaking, followed by a sting on the back of his head. As he got up, he could hear the faint clicks of weapons at the yard and his first reaction was to rush to the window, telling them to stop.

All the soldiers had their weapons pointed at Laurent, who had been thrown to the ground in the middle of the yard with a injury on his head. Laurent had the triumphant expression of a man who just got exactly what he wanted and Nikandros wanted to punch him so desperately.

“Bring him inside. I’ll punish him.” Nikandros said in an authoritarian tone.

His peers obeyed and roughly brought Laurent inside. Nikandros excused himself for a moment and headed towards the room he knew Laurent would be taken to. And, though he wanted to punch Laurent once or twice, he prepared himself mentally. A single punch would not suffice and, despite everything, a beating would be required for that. Damen was going to kill him for something he did not even wish to do.

 

\-------------

 

When Nikandros called Damen he was not alone. A whole committee, including his admiral, had gathered to listen to their conversation, carrying fancy equipment to detect Damen's location. When Nikandros asked where he was, they checked. A nod came from the specialist and the admiral nodded at him to go on. Nikandros did, his heart beating at an alarming fast pace. 

Laurent’s escape had given the admiral a reason to investigate his relationships. First the selling of half-breeds - Which only the admiral, who received the money for it, knew about - and now the escape of his childhood friend’s husband. All too convenient, all too suspicious. With the fear of being found out by his own superiors, the admiral was willing to gladly throw Nikandros into the wolves to save his own skin. And that would be quite easy if Nikandros stepped out of line, or if Damen said the wrong thing during that call. 

Luckily, Damen was much angrier than he was talkative, so Nikandros managed to keep his name, position and life for another day. After the committee left, Nikandros was finally able to breathe again, wiping the sweat from his nape. He glanced through the window, watching the forest behind the camp. He could only hope that Laurent was still alive and that he could safely reach Patras.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing because of the timeline. I thought dividing it by characters would be best in this case. (´v｀")7 This was one of the most fun chapters to write, so I hope it was fun to read as well! (´∀｀*)
> 
> Since life has been keeping me super busy, I won't make any promises, but I will do my very best to post next chapter on the 1st, as usual!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> Here is the new chapter. This one has more Damen and Laurent on it, yay! I hope you enjoy it! ♥ (´∀｀*)~

The ringtone echoed through the room, forcing Damen to wake up. His eyes struggled to open, something that had slowly become part of his routine. Damen had always had a nearly perfect sleeping schedule, making mornings easy for him; but since the Veretian Purge, his sleep had become unstable and opening his eyes to not see his husband by his side did not give him much incentive to wake.

He reached for his phone, barely opening his eyes for a mere second to accept the call. Turning to lay on his back and covering his eyes with his forearm he brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Damen, it’s Torveld.”

“Torveld?” Damen forced his eyes to open once more to check the clock. It was still much too early for work. “What’s going on? Do you need anything?”

“I have a proposal for you, but you need to accept it today.”

“A proposal?” Damen sat up. “Torveld, what are you talking about?”

“Soon I’ll return to Patras for a while. I need to settle some personal matters. For now, I would like to make you vice-president. Later I want to add you as a partner.”

“I-What!?” Damen rubbed his eyes, still baffled.

“I’m going to the office right now,” Torveld informed. “if you want to, we can sign all the documentation before the work day even starts.”

“Torveld, I-Are you sure?”

“You’re the only one I trust. I need to go back.”

“What about that boy? Your… ‘Friend’?”

There was silence for a moment.

“I need to go back for a while. I can’t say much, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, sure. I apologize for being so intrusive. Thank you. Of course I accept it.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

Damen stared at his phone for over five minutes, trying to comprehend what had just happened. For a second, the image of his father came to mind. It was almost ironic that he had received exactly what his father had denied him. Damen could almost hear Laurent’s victorious laugh, see his head thrown back as his whole body shook in amusement from hearing the news. Still, Damen wondered if Laurent would not have been even happier if he had never come to Akielos. Had they stayed in Vere, he would not have been imprisoned in some confinement camp so far away.

Before he became consumed by the idea that bringing Laurent to Akielos might have been a mistake, Damen rose and washed his face. Perhaps getting ready for work would take his mind off things for a while.

 

\-------------

 

Erasmus held a sleeping Théodore in his arms. He had been inside a military truck for a few hours when he was finally let out. He received a few pieces of some delicious bread which tasted better than anything he had eaten in the last three years. Erasmus had forgotten how wonderful eating could be. The doors opened suddenly, waking Théodore up.

“Come on, blondie.” The soldier waved at him to get out.

Erasmus put Théo down and stood, holding his hand for them to leave. Théo held onto his favorite teddy bear and Erasmus’s hand trembled. They stood in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the truck, the dirt and an a relatively long, elegant car around them. One of the soldiers discussed with a man wearing shades and a fancy suit, while the other stood close to Erasmus, his gun at hand.

A few minutes passed before the second soldier approached Erasmus and gestured towards the car. Erasmus hesitated, but was convinced to walk by a gun poking him on the back. Théo looked around, as unsure of what was happening as Erasmus.

The man in the suit approached and Erasmus froze in place. Without any sort of greeting or acknowledgment, the man lifted Erasmus’s shirt. When he tried to fight it, one of the soldiers held Erasmus in place, allowing the man to look at him.

“Erasmus!” Théo called, being held by the second soldier.

“It’s okay! Everything is okay!” Erasmus reassured him, trying to keep calm.

The man showed no interest whatsoever as he examined Erasmus’s torso and legs. He did the same with Théodore, wasting no more than three seconds on each.

“They look fine.” The man nodded and took his phone from his pocket, calling someone. “I’ve got them.”

He hung up and the soldiers nodded at him and returned to the truck. The man politely gestured towards the car but Erasmus refused to go inside. He took Théodore in his arms and considered his choices. The soldiers had left, so he could not return to the camps. Outside, however, he had nowhere to go. There was nothing even remotely close by except for that car.

“Are you all right?” The man spoke, taking off his shades. His tone of voice and gestures were soft and his eyes kind. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy like that.”

Erasmus widened his eyes, even more confused.

“I’m Torgeir-Huh-Torveld’s brother’s bodyguard. I’m here to take you to Torveld.”

“Torveld!? He-But how-!?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll explain it on our way. Please come with me, you seem to be starving. There’s food in the car.”

Upon hearing Torveld’s name Erasmus managed to relax and nodded. The bodyguard walked up to the car and opened the door for him. Erasmus got in and nearly cried from the sight. The car seat was one of the softest things he had touched in years, it smelled nice and, above all, there was a small table filled with food. Chicken, rice, everything Erasmus loved most was just waiting to be eaten. And under one of the bowls, a simple note, written in Torveld’s handwriting: _Welcome home. I love you._

“Erasmus?” Théo called for him and Erasmus kissed his cheek.

For the first time Erasmus could feed Théodore with proper food. Inside there was even a car seat for the boy. Erasmus put him there and felt so satisfied from the sight. Théodore was safe.

“I like this chair!” Théo commented, smiling at him.

“Right?” Erasmus chuckled. “Here, have some food.”

Erasmus made Théo a small plate of food and handed it to Théo before preparing one for himself. They ate together and Erasmus leaned against the car seat, feeling incredibly satisfied.

“This is good!” Théo told him, stuffing himself with some chicken.

“It’s tasty, isn’t it?” Erasmus stroked Théodore’s cheek. “From now on you’ll be able to eat as much as you want.”

“Tasty.” Théodore tried the word once and nodded, understanding its meaning.

 

\-------------

 

Erasmus had been given everything and more. He had a whole apartment for him and Théodore alone, guards at his door at all times, a refrigerator that was never even close to empty and as many clothes and plants as he wished. Théodore had received a room, all for himself, with clothes, a bed and every toy a four year old could possibly wish for. Even so, looking at everything he had only made Erasmus think of Kallias, still suffering inside the camps. Erasmus had spent the first two nights sleeping alongside Théodore, missing Kallias’s voice, his support and company.

It took Torveld a little over a week to get to Patras. Erasmus sat on the ground, letting Théodore tie tiny rubber bands to his hair when the sound of the door unlocking made him tense up. No one ever touched the locks beside himself. Erasmus rose and took a few seconds for him to comprehend that Torveld stood before him. Torveld looked older than he remembered. His hair starting to change tones and bags under his eyes. He had not been sleeping well.

Before Erasmus realized it, he was rushing towards Torveld and being held in his arms.

“Erasmus-” Torveld squeezed him against himself. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re safe. I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too!”

Erasmus rose his head and Torveld held his face in his hands. It took them a second staring into each other’s eyes before they kissed. Torveld’s fingers slipped through Erasmus’s locks and met the colorful plastic rubber bands Théodore had used. Torveld tried to guess what they were from touch, not wanting to stop their kiss.

“Erasmus.” A small, quiet voice called and Erasmus gently pushed Torveld away.

“Oh, sweetie, this is Torveld. He’s-He’s a friend.” Erasmus turned and tried to find a way to explain the situation to Théodore.

Torveld, finally noticing the young boy staring at them, was in shock. A boy, around three or four years old, dark skin and eyes blue as the sky. The very second Torveld lay his eyes on him he remembered Damen, coming to work after paternity leave, showing him a picture of an infant with too many resemblances to the child in front of him to be just a coincidence.

“Erasmus, where-Who is this?” Torveld asked in the kindest tone he could manage.

“This is Théodore.” Erasmus said and picked Théo up. “I met his father in the camps and-”

“You met his father!?” Torveld stepped closer and Théo hugged Erasmus’s neck from the scare. “Sorry. You-You met his father? Is he all right?”

Erasmus opened his mouth, but he could not reply.

“Yes. He’s fine.” Erasmus confirmed, but his expression silently told Torveld the truth. “Can we discuss this later?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry.” Torveld took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “So, huh, Théodore, is it? You’ve done a pretty good job on Erasmus’s hair. It looks very pretty.”

Torveld smiled and Théo slowly, still very suspicious of the man, looked at him. Théo looked at Erasmus’s hair and hid his face on his chest. Torveld could see the hint of a sweet smile, though.

 

\-------------

 

It was nine thirty and Torveld was doing the dishes as Erasmus put Théo to bed. Erasmus sang to him and caressed his head until he was asleep, then carefully got up, heading to the kitchen. Torveld put down the cloth he used to dry up his hands and touched Erasmus’s cheek, stroking his thumb against it.

“Is he asleep?”

“Yeah.” Erasmus nodded, melting into his touch.

“How did you get him? What happened to his father?” Torveld asked.

“I don’t know, actually.” Erasmus answered, sitting on the couch. “They handed him over to me on the first day and that was it. I met his father once, across the fences, and never saw him again. He had another son too.”

“I know. His name is Nicaise. I know their family.”

“Family!? He has a family!?” Erasmus smiled.

“Yes, yes! Laurent, the man you met, he’s married to one of my employees. They have Théodore, Nicaise and another boy called Pallas. Damen and Pallas are Akielons, so they weren’t taken.”

“I see. Then Théodore can finally be with his family again.”

Erasmus felt a hint of pain from saying it. He always knew he would have to give Théodore up one day, but during those three years he had become so attached to the boy he feared their parting.

“Well, not yet. I mean, Damen can’t take him back to Akielos yet or he’ll be taken back to the camps.”

“No!” Erasmus rose. “Anything but that! He can’t go back! You don’t know what it’s like over there, Torveld!”

“Erasmus! Erasmus, calm down!” Torveld held him in place by the arm. “I will not send him back. He’ll be safe, I promise.”

Erasmus took a deep breath, sitting back down.

“I have to let him know eventually, though.”

“Yes, of course. Just,” Erasmus sighed. “Just give me a day, please.”

 

\-------------

 

There was a well known drill for whenever the doorbell rang in Auguste’s house. Akielons would rush to hide wherever they could, children would be kept quiet and Auguste would not allow anyone inside.

However, when Akielon soldiers invaded Aquitart, they did not knock or ring the doorbell. They brought the door to the ground, came in and did as they pleased. From the other apartments they heard shrieks of terror and pain, along with pleads of mercy.

Auguste pleaded as well. The Akielons he had saved also pleaded in his behalf. But no pleads were loud enough to upstage the brightness of his golden hair. Strands were ripped out of his scalp from the pull and tainted red from the bullet wounds.

The Akielons were rescued from the one Veretian had rescued them.

 

\-------------

 

Damen returned home from work exhausted. He dropped his belongings on a chair nearby and took off his tie. He was staying in a small apartment he had found for himself and the emptiness of it made him miserable. Without Pallas, his family’s absence became undeniable.

He took a shower, prepared some food and ate it while watching the news. It was not as if, after three years, he still had high hopes of getting any sort of information about his family. But watching the news, even biased ones, was essential during war times. Damen no longer watched the series he and Laurent used to watch together, though. As soon as the news were over, he would turn off the TV and find something to distract himself until he slept. He had bought a few books and used to read them a lot. Usually thinking how much Laurent would enjoy them. There was a pile beside his bed with the books he planned to give Laurent when he returned home.

He was almost asleep when his phone rang. It was Torveld. Damen sat up, rubbed his eyes and answered the phone.

“Torveld, hey. How’s Patras?”

“It’s good, it’s good.” Torveld took a deep breath. “Damen, listen, I have some news for you.”

“News? About what? The company is doing fine. Do you need me to do anything or-?”

“No. Nothing work related.” Torveld chuckled. “Damen, your son. Your youngest. I have him.”

Damen felt all air leave his lungs as he rose. His mouth hung open, but no sounds came out for over a minute.

“You-What!?”

“Listen, calm down. He’s fine, he’s safe. I’m taking good care of him.”

“For how long have you had him!?” Damen tried to arrange his thoughts.

“Just for a day! But Damen, listen-”

“I’ll go get him! I’ll be there soon as I can!”

“No, Damen! Wait!” Torveld interrupted. “You can’t take him back! I mean, you _can_ , you are his father, but… Please think this through. If he goes back to Akielos, he’ll be taken again. Let him be here with me and Erasmus for a while.”

“No! No, Torveld! It’s been three years! I-!” Damen inhaled deeply, trying to process everything. “I need my son, Torveld.”

“Damen, please, listen. You know I would never, ever, under no circumstances keep you from your family for no reason. Just think this through, please. Look, you can come and see him if you want. I have no intentions of taking your son from you. We just want to keep him safe.”

Damen stopped, standing with a hand on his hip. A million thoughts going through his head. _How come Torveld had taken him out of the camps?_ , _Why couldn’t he have taken Laurent?_ , _Where is Laurent now?_ , all these thoughts making a mess out of his brain.

“You have no idea what they’ve been through there, Damen. The situation is not good. I don’t mean to scare you, but,” Torveld hesitated. “The camps are awful, Damen. Please, let me keep your son so he doesn’t go back there.”

“I-Okay.” Damen sat on the bed, running his hand through his hair. “Can you please just… Just take a picture of him? I need to see him.”

“Of course! Pictures, videos, full daily reports. Anything you want, name it and we’ll do our best to arrange it. I can send you a small video we took today if you want.”

“Yes, please. That would be great.”

“And let me know whenever you want to visit. Just say the word and we’ll be waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Torveld. Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

“My pleasure, Damen.”

Torveld hung up and Damen waited for less than a minute before receiving the file. He leaned against the headboard and took a moment before playing the video. It started with an image of the floor, with some cute children’s song they had in Akielos, but sung in Patran, echoing in the background.

The cameraman – Damen assumed it was Torveld. He had never been great with new technologies – finally lifted the camera up and showed a beautiful young man, probably in his mid-twenties, laughing, dancing around and jumping in a childish way. He looked down, behind the fancy couch. Damen got a good view of the unbelievably gorgeous penthouse they lived in before Torveld finally went around the couch to stay beside Erasmus and film Théodore.

Damen’s felt his heart beating faster and his eyes watering from the sight. Théodore was so big he surpassed the height of the couch’s seats. His features were slowly getting more mature, the transition into childhood quite evident. The infant Damen once knew was gone, replaced by this lovely, sweet child jumping around, with a smile on his face and holding a teddy bear that clearly needed to be washed as soon as possible.

Damen covered his mouth with one hand, not wanting even a single sound to disrupt the video. Even so, he could not help his vision from blurring when Théodore spoke. _Erasmus, Erasmus! Put the moo-moo one!_ , Théo had requested before Erasmus walked up to the stereo to change the song. Théo danced some more to a music that, for some reason, had a cow mooing in the background.

The video ended and Damen looked up, taking a deep breath. With the immersion gone, he remembered the harsh reality he found himself in. He was not in a sunny penthouse playing with his beloved son. He was in a small, dark, sad apartment, without his husband, not being able to see his children.

He put his phone on the nightstand, walked up to the closet and took Laurent’s shirt from inside it. As he opened it, the sweet smell of his husband took a hold of his senses. Damen's hand slid across the sleeve as he inhaled deeply and returned the shirt to its plastic and into the closet. He wondered how long the smell would last and if it would fade before Laurent had a chance to come back to him.

 

\-------------

 

The rain was so intense the lively streets of Bazal were almost deserted. The small cup of yogurt Laurent had been using to collect money for food filled up quickly with water, despite being under the cardboard they used to protect themselves from the rain. Laurent’s hands shook with cold as he placed his hand on top of it to throw out the water and placed it back on the ground. Close to them, the water bottles they had received from Lydos were restocked with rain water. Aimeric whined and slapped Nicaise, bored from being stuck in a small space for so long.

“Ow! Aimeric!” Nicaise complained, trying to keep the half-empty package of diapers safe from the rain.

“Hey!” Laurent held Aimeric’s hand and sat him on his lap. Nicaise held the cardboard in his place. “Don’t hit your brother. That’s a very bad thing to do.”

Aimeric whined a few words and Laurent shushed him.

“Sit down. Here.” Laurent gave him an empty match box and sliding the inner box in and out of its case distracted Aimeric for a while.

Someone approached them and Laurent tensed up. After almost a year, Laurent had learned well that those who lived on the streets were nothing in the eyes of society. During that time Laurent had been removed from several places because he ‘was not good for business’; he had been hurt for no reason at all but the simple entertainment of the future Patran elite; and once or twice someone had tried – and thankfully not being able to - to do much more than simply beat him. All in front of two children, the oldest not even twelve years old yet. If not for Laurent’s stolen knife, he did not know what could have happened.

When a man crouched, Laurent was ready to defend himself when he was offered a folded umbrella with the ugliest flower stamp Laurent had ever seen. Laurent looked up, suspicious of his intentions, but the man did not seem to be interested in anything more than giving him something. Laurent noticed he was also Veretian and assumed that was what made him so familiar.

“It’s raining. You have two children. Take it, I bought it for you.” He said.

Laurent stared at him for a while before hesitantly taking it.

“Do you need anything? Maybe a meal?”

“I’m not a prostitute.” Laurent informed him.

The man widened his eyes in shock. He glanced up at Nicaise, probably wondering if he even knew that that meant.

“No, I-” He started. “I never meant to-. I really just want to help. I don’t expect anything, anything at all, in return.”

Laurent pondered for a while before turning to Nicaise.

“What do you want?”

“I want a burger.” Nicaise said, instantly.

“No, they are expensive.” Laurent told him.

“No, please. It’s fine. A burger. What about the little one? What can he eat?”

“Bread should be fine.” Laurent said.

“Okay. Bread and what?” The man nodded.

“Just bread.”

“Oh, no! Please, let me get you a sandwich or something.” The man insisted. “Would ham and cheese be good?”

“...Yes.” Laurent felt his mouth water just from thinking about it.

“All right. Wait here.”

The man left and Laurent resisted the urge to mock him. Like he had anywhere else to go besides “here”. Besides, Laurent had no faith the man would return at all. Maybe he was just teasing the homeless guy for his own entertainment. Still, he opened the umbrella to realize it was much bigger than he had imagined and could probably serve as shelter for all the citizens in Patras.

Laurent chuckled at that and moved deeper into the alley he was in, supporting the umbrella on a wall and a dumpster, creating a small shelter for them. Nicaise brought the water bottles closer to them and shivered with cold, so Laurent brought him closer. Aimeric continued to be distracted by the match box, babbling in Laurent’s lap.

The man returned almost half an hour later with a big plastic bag. Laurent widened his eyes as Nicaise received not only his burger, but a whole set, with a drink and french fries. Laurent regretted not having made the same request.

The man also took another large plastic bag from within the bigger one filled to the brim with bread. Another bag, smaller, had two large sandwiches with ham and cheese. And, lastly, the man had brought them a blanket, large enough to cover them if they slept close to each other, but not so huge it would be difficult to carry somewhere else.

“I hope that’s enough.” He commented. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“No, this is fine. More than fine, actually. Thank you.” Laurent said, helping Aimeric eat one of the sandwiches.

“Thwang you, wisther.” Nicaise thanked him with his mouth stuffed with hanf a burger and a couple of fries.

“No problem. See you around.” The man smiled and rose, leaving the alley. “Hm… Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.” Laurent admitted, though he was not sure. The man did seem familiar.

“Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, enjoy your meal.”

 

\-------------

 

It was Friday night and Damen was at his apartment when the intercom rang. He placed his plate on the table, licking food that had touched his finger as he answered. There was no introduction, no greeting, nothing. Just a much too familiar voice saying _It’s me. Open up._. Damen almost refused. But Nikandros would not be there if it was not important. Damen waited by the open door, arms crossed. Nikandros wore his hood, as usual, and rushed inside without a single word. Damen closed the door and turned, frowning.

“War’s over.” Nikandros stated and Damen widened his eyes. “Here are their passports and residency cards. With that, they can cross the border.”

“Wha-Wait-But, Laurent, did you find him?”

“If I had, I would have brought him here. We need to find him, Damen. If he has not called you back yet, he’s probably still in Patras.”

“Patras!? How can I find a missing man in Patras!?” Damen asked.

“I don’t know, Damen. But he can’t cross the border without a passport, so I’m giving it to you.”

“But why hasn’t he contacted me? He took Nicaise with him, right? Why haven’t they at least called?” Damen stared at the passports, trying to comprehend what Laurent was trying to do. This was not like him.

“Damen, I wish I had come here with all the answers, but I’m just as ignorant as you. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll help with what I can.”

“Will you?” Damen looked at him in the eyes, looking for an honest answer. “Why did you leave me in the dark for so long?”

“I couldn’t say anything, Damen. My superiors had their eyes on me at all times. Laurent was in my camp and the responsibility of him escaping fell on my shoulders.”

Damen nodded, in silence, looking down at the passports.

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot!” Nikandros said and reached into his pocket.

Damen extended his hand and Nikandros placed the thin, delicate golden ring in his hand. Damen read his own name inside it and let out a deep breath.

“Why-” Damen started.

“They took his belongings. I couldn’t take everything or they’d notice.” Nikandros interrupted. “I’m sorry for everything. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

Damen stared at his ring and at Laurent’s documents, then into Nikandros’s eyes.

“Thank you.” He said, after all.

Nikandros nodded and, without a hug or a pat on the back, left.

 

\-------------

 

Nearly three months after receiving the provisions Laurent got his hand on a newspaper someone was about to throw out. It was ridiculous how he had to nearly beg to receive something that was going into the trash. Sometimes, he felt like he was worth less than the dumpster he lived beside.

The news had been going around for around a while. Rumors he heard from the mouth of the passing people on the main street, but Laurent was skeptical. He did not believe until he saw, on the second page of the newspaper: _The war between Akielos and Vere comes to an end_. Laurent’s hands trembled as he stared at the newspaper, Nicaise and Aimeric still sleeping together on the floor, wrapped in the warm blanket.

Laurent smiled, holding the newspaper against his body. He needed to return to Akielos. He did not know how, but he had to. He needed to find a way to return to Akielos and find his family. Laurent thought of Auguste, but decided he had to focus on one thing at a time. With Damen by his side, he might be able to go to Vere and check on his brother.

“Hey, blondie!”

A voice called for him and Laurent turned. It was Orlant, another homeless Veretian which had given Laurent the cardboard he had used as shelter. Laurent repaid him many months later, with a couple of breads he had received from the caring Veretian.

“Orlant. What a pleasure.” Laurent mocked.

“What are you still doing here? War’s over.” Orlant said, sitting on the handler of his personal grocery cart. “Aren’t you going back?”

“To Akielos?” Laurent rose an eyebrow. “And how do you expect me to do that without money, without a passport…?”

“No, to Vere. There are trains going there, you know, _discreetly_.”

It was not what Laurent had planned. But the familiarity of Vere, the crowds of people with the same skin color as his own and, above all, the presence of his brother weighed on his heart. And if he met Auguste, he would also have access to proper food, a shower, a phone that he could use to call his husband and meet him. Vere sounded like a plan.

“And what’s the cost?” Laurent asked, knowing all too well nothing came without cost.

“For the three of you? Probably around the same as this pretty knife of yours.” Orlant said, flimsily pointing towards Laurent’s hip, where he kept the knife he had stolen from the camps.

Laurent pondered for a moment. That knife was his only protection, but he would not need it anymore. He would be in Vere, with Auguste by his side.

“What about you?” Laurent asked.

“I’m staying here. Even if I had the money to go back, I’ve got no reason to. I don’t have a family waiting for me, nor do I have the hopes of ever being something more than a hobo. And I’d rather be one here than in that mess.”

“I see.” Laurent nodded. “It was nice meeting you. I hope next time our circumstances will be more adequate.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Orlant had a smirk when he offered his hand. He knew all too well Laurent was not a fan of touching and there was no way he would let the opportunity pass.

Laurent rolled his eyes and held back a chuckle. Then shook Orlant’s hand.

 

\-------------

 

Jord read the morning newspaper, drinking from his cup. War was over, and part of him wondered if he should return to Akielos. He still remembered the day he had left. He rushed to get on the last train that made it to Patras without being held back. He had heard the news that after his train, all the others were inspected and his compatriots were taken from them and into the camps.

He remembered the rush of reaching a new country, of the days he spent in a cheap hotel, desperately searching for work before a humble, kind old man hired him as a clerk at his store. Jord had been lucky. The old man and the store were no more, but he had found another job. Unlike the poor man that lived beside the dumpster. Jord sighed, remembering him. He wished he could help, but it was not like Jord himself was living the dream. He had bills to pay and the hole made in his pocket from the provisions he had bought the man was big.

Still, he could not help feeling like he should have done more. He remembered Damen, warning him about the Purge and keeping him from being taken. Perhaps even before he could warn his own husband.

Then, Jord dropped the mug he held as he unconsciously stood. The sudden realization of what had escaped his mind, of why he had found that man so familiar. The blue eyes, the golden hair, Jord had not recognized him in that deplorable state he had been found. Jord needed to bring him to his house. He owned Damen at least the decency of sheltering his husband.

Jord put on a coat and rushed out the door. He was so frustrated at himself for not being able to recognize him sooner. He remembered exactly where he was. The alley with the dumpster, two buildings away from the diner, before reaching the bank. Jord turned the corner, expecting to see Laurent sitting there, holding a toddler, with his son by his side. His heart pulsating with adrenaline. Yet, all he found was the cardboard Laurent had once used for shelter. Jord sighed, running his hand across his face. Frustrated, he rode around town, but it was futile. Laurent was gone.

 

\-------------

 

The train was awful. Veretians were transported inside crates, as loads, until they reached a safe spot for them to be released. The whole way there took at least two days. Laurent was not entirely sure, since he lost track of time inside that crate. The crate was long, but thin, making it feel like a coffin. If it was not difficult enough, having toddler with him made everything much harder. Aimeric, like any child, did not want to sit still and whined and cried a lot. Laurent was patient and understood it was not his fault, but it was exhausting. Laurent might have recovered from the bullet wound, but his body was still weak from the lack of nutrients.

The train eventually stopped and stayed. Laurent supported himself on his left shoulder and tried to hear the sounds of several crates being handled outside. Nicaise, squeezed between him and the sides of the crate, opened his eyes but did not move until someone opened the one they were in. Aimeric whined at the sudden light, hiding his face into Laurent’s chest.

“Come on, princess. Time to go. We’re in Vere.”

Laurent gestured to Nicaise to get up and the boy did, getting out of the crate. Laurent sat up, handed him Aimeric and also got out. They were still inside the train, but on the outside they could see Aquitart, far away, across a field of grass. Laurent thanked the man and so did Nicaise as they watched the train leave. Then headed towards the rising sun.

The city was far. In Laurent’s state, he had to hand Aimeric over to Nicaise for a few minutes, so they did not need to stop to rest. Even so, it was around midday when they reached the city and the sun shone bright above their heads. It was deserted, which was strange, but Auguste’s building made Laurent’s heart flutter. He could finally, finally rest in a safe place. He could see his family again and his sons could be safe, even without Laurent constantly watching them.

Laurent rang the intercom and waited anxiously to hear Auguste’s voice. But it never came. Laurent rang it again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, an ill feeling taking over his heart, suppressing the excitement he had felt before. Still no reply. Laurent pushed the button for a while, frustrated. Why was Auguste not answering? Why was he not there? Laurent sat down on the stairs leading to the building and decided to wait for his brother.

Then he realized it. The streets were _completely_ empty. Only a few people walked around, most of them seeming homeless. There were no businesses opened, few cars on the streets and some of the buildings had broken windows and doors. Laurent rose and turned to take another look at Auguste’s building. It had broken windows, including the one from Auguste’s apartment.

Laurent approached the door and found it ajar. He pushed it and saw the insides of the building completely torn apart. He put Aimeric down, giving his hand for Nicaise to hold. _Stay here. If someone gets near you, shout._ _Be careful,_ _there’s broken glass on the floor. Don’t let Aimeric walk on them_ _._ he instructed before going up the stairs. The apartment doors were either left open or destroyed, including the one leading to Auguste’s apartment.

Laurent trembled as he walked inside and found the apartment destroyed. Broken windows and decorations, furniture knocked down, dark stains on the floor. Laurent’s mind went blank. He searched the whole apartment, but there was no sign of Auguste. He stared at the dark stains but refused to imagine what it could be and what could have happened there.

Laurent didn’t know what to do. He was exhausted, they had nowhere to go, and he felt as if they had gone back to where they started. Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the closet in Auguste’s bedroom and took a sleeping bag from inside it. He checked the bathroom but it was completely unusable. Then, Laurent headed to the kitchen where he found Auguste’s broom, broken in half, and a few snacks. Most fruits and food were no longer edible, but the bags of snacks were fine.

Returning downstairs, he tried to ignore Nicaise’s hopeful eyes staring at him, waiting for good news. Laurent avoided his gaze, trying to think of an answer to give him. There was none.

“He’s not home. Here’s some food.” Laurent put the snacks on top of the reception desk and used the broom to swipe the broken glass to the curb outside. “We’ll rest here for a day or two. There is a roof over our heads and some food. It’s not the best, but at least it’s something.”

“All right.” Nicaise said and approached the desk, taking a small package of chips. “Here, Aimeric.”

Aimeric barely looked at the chips before eating them. Laurent checked the phone cord and realized it was cut. He sighed and laid out the sleeping bag on the floor. Aimeric approached and Laurent sat down on it, letting Aimeric sit on his lap.

“You eat too, daddy!” Aimeric said, poking Laurent’s lips with a potato chip.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Laurent smiled and accepted it.

Nicaise sat beside Laurent, leaning against him. It took him a few moments to hug Laurent’s arm, squeezing it tightly.

 

\-------------

 

It was almost two weeks after Nikandros had come to visit him when Damen received the call. The last two weekends had been spent traveling to Patras to visit his son and look for his husband, with no luck on the latter. He searched the small cities, close to the border, but no one had seen Laurent. He even found a suspiciously well equipped doctor near the border, which he could swear hid another Veretian inside his house, but he had not seen Laurent.

Damen had not heard of Jord ever since he had escaped. In fact, Damen did not even know if Jord was still alive, but assumed it was best. Perhaps if Jord had tried to contact him, he might have been discovered and lost his freedom, just like the rest of Damen’s family.

“Damen, I can’t believe you still have the same phone number.” Jord let out a breath of amusement from the other side of the line.

“Hm, who is this?” Damen could not recognize the familiar voice for the life of him.

“Jord! It’s Jord! I made it.”

“Oh my God. Jord, hi!” Damen chuckled. “It’s been so long. You made it!”

“I did. Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me know. A second later and I think I might have been taken.”

“Not at all, Jord. I’m glad you’re safe.” The corner of Damen’s mouth rose.

“Look, Damen, actually I’m actually calling to talk about your husband.”

“Laurent!? Have you seen him!?” Damen rose from the couch.

“Well, yes. He was here in Bazal, but I still can’t find him. I don’t think he went too far, though. He-” Jord hesitated. “His situation was quite difficult.”

“Situation? What do you mean?”

“He was living on the street, Damen. But your son, Nicaise isn’t it? I think it was him accompanying Laurent. And they had a toddler, but I don’t think it was your youngest.”

“I-No. Théodore is,” Damen sighed. “Why-Why didn’t you help him?”

“I did! I mean, not enough, but honestly I didn’t recognize him. He was,” Another pause. “...Different. I’m so sorry. When I went there again, he was gone. But I asked around and it seems he took a train to Vere.”

“A train?”

“Yes. Apparently some people are smuggling Veretians back into Vere. Maybe you can find him there?”

“I see… Thank you, Jord.”

“Not at all, Damen. If I can do anything to help, please let me know.”

“Thank you. Really, I appreciate it.”

 

\-------------

 

Before war broke out Damen had never used his money to his own advantage. In fact, at least once a month he and Laurent donate some of their extra money to certain charities and put some in the bank for their children. However, with his family’s lives on the line, he did not care if he had to use all of his money to get them back. Veretian visas used to take over a week to be delivered, and yet, it was nothing that could not be obtained for the small cost of five thousand sols handed directly to the head of the department. In two days, Damen was driving a rented car into the Veretian border. His hands shook and he had no idea how he would be able to find Laurent. His first guess was obvious: Auguste’s apartment, which Damen was not even sure still stood after the attack.

During the last breaths of war, Akielos managed to invade Aquitart, destroying the city. Meanwhile, Vere invaded Karthas. The lack of resources, the breach into their frontiers by land and the fear of ending up with two destroyed countries and nothing more had made the two national leaders meet once more to discuss a deal. This time, instead of giving up a fertile land, filled with resources, they had opted for something much much simpler: Divide it in half. It was such an obvious deal it made Damen furious. He had lost his whole family out of a pathetic confront that could have been avoided with a solution Damen himself had used to put and end to childish arguments between his sons.

He drove around Aquitart and started to lose hope. There was no way Laurent would be here. There was nothing left but destroyed buildings and dirty streets. Damen parked the car in front of Auguste’s building and got off. He had no idea of what he should do. He thought of simply shouting out Laurent’s name in a pathetic attempt to find him, and even opened his mouth to do so before he spotted a familiar face in the distance.

Like an illusion, he saw Nicaise playing in the middle of the street with a toddler. Like Nicaise, the toddler had curly brown hair and fair Veretian skin. Damen’s mouth was open, but words did not come out. Nicaise was so much taller and looked so responsible, all by himself, caring for another child. It took Damen a couple tries before he was finally able to call for him.

“Nicaise!”

With a sudden twitch of his body, Nicaise looked up, his eyes focusing on Damen. None of them moved for a couple seconds, until Damen took a step forward. Without thinking, Nicaise let go of the toddler’s hand and rushed towards his father. Damen took a few shaky steps forward and knelt, being met by a strong hug from Nicaise.

“Dad!” Nicaise grabbed Damen’s hair as he hugged him.

“I’m here. It’s all right. I can’t believe it’s you!” Damen had missed the tight squeeze of his son’s arms around his neck so much his heart could barely handle feeling it once again.

“Are you,” Nicaise wiped away a few tears before letting go and looking Damen in the eyes. “Are you here to take us home?”

“Yes, of course. I’m here to take you home. Where is-”

Damen stopped, watching the toddler approach them with unstable steps. In a mindless paternal instinct, acquired from having three sons, Damen took him in his arms. The boy came with such ease that is seemed Damen was his father.

“Hey, little one. What’s your name?” Damen asked, mostly to Nicaise.

“Mewik.” The toddler replied.

“He’s Aimeric. He’s my new brother!” Nicaise told Damen, excited.

“Oh… Is he?” Damen chuckled and took another look at Aimeric. “So you’ll be my new son? Yes?”

Aimeric nodded, as if he understood the situation perfectly. Then, a familiar voice called Nicaise’s name. Damen felt a shiver up his spine as he heard it, his body frozen in the moment as he saw him come out of a corner.

Disheveled hair, a long golden beard hiding his wonderful features and filthy clothes and body. No wonder Jord was not able to recognize Laurent. Even his own husband took an extra second to do so. Still, as soon as he was able to, Damen handed Aimeric over to Nicaise and rushed towards his husband.

This time, it was Laurent walking slowly, in utter shock. Damen approached and grabbed him by the waist, lifting him up. Laurent simply held onto Damen’s shoulders, his hands trembling as his fingers slowly found their way into Damen’s nape.

“I missed you. So. Very. Much. I thought about you everyday. I tried to find you, I swear. I did everything I could.” Damen told him.

“I believe you.” Laurent’s whisper was shaky.

“I love you so much. Pallas will be so happy.”

“I,” Laurent put his hand on Damen’s chest as he was slowly put down on the ground. “I lost Théodore. They took him from me. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Damen laughed. Actually laughed at that. Laurent’s eyes widened.

“No, love. He’s safe. He’s in Patras, with Torveld.”

“Wh-What? Torveld…!? Torveld bought him!?” Laurent grabbed Damen’s shirt.

“No. I mean, yes, sort of. He’s taking care of him. We can ask them to come as soon as we wish. I have your passports, your Residency Cards, everything. Just a few more days and we can all be together again.” Damen smiled, stroking Laurent’s cheek with his thumb.

“I,” Laurent tried to say something. To find a flaw in this plan. There had always been one, why would it not happen again? Then he found it. “What about Aimeric?”

Damen looked back and saw Nicaise and Aimeric together, giving their parents a moment alone. Damen had all the documentation for Laurent and Nicaise, but not for Aimeric.

“It’s all right. We’ll figure something out. I have the car, maybe we can hide him in the trunk just across the border.”

“No, Damen. He can’t be alone in there.” Laurent held Damen’s shirt.

“Then I’ll go with him.” Nicaise interrupted, holding Aimeric’s hand. “He’ll feel safe with me there.”

“He can’t make any noise, Nicaise.” Laurent explained.

“He won’t. I promise.” Nicaise’s eyes found Damen’s, requesting support.

“It’s just across the border. As soon as we reach the highway in Karthas, we’ll take them out.” Damen said.

Laurent took a deep breath.

“Where is the car?”

 

\-------------

 

The border agent was suspicious when Damen crossed the border bringing the filthiest Veretian he had ever seen in his life. It took him over five minutes glancing between Laurent’s Residency Card and the man in front of him. If it was not for the blond hair under all the dirt and the sharp blue eyes he would not have believed they were the same person. Every extra second he took made Damen and Laurent’s heart beat faster.

While his parents were asked questions and requested documents, Nicaise whispered a story into Aimeric’s ears. It was one Damen loved to tell, creating different voices. Even in the dark of the warm trunk, Nicaise could see the shimmer in Aimeric’s focused eyes as he listened intently. The car moved, but Nicaise continued to tell his story, uninterrupted.

Delpha was still a wasteland after the harsh battles, but, even so, it was in better shape than Aquitart and Karthas. Perhaps the lack of buildings to destroy had made the devastation less evident.

Reaching the middle of the highway in Karthas, Damen stopped at the roadside and both of them left the car in a hurry. When Damen opened the trunk, Nicaise was lying on his back, with Aimeric sleeping soundly on his stomach.

“Told you I could keep him quiet.”

Nicaise said in a conceited tone and Laurent’s whole body relaxed from hearing his husband’s typical snort. For a single second, that snort made Laurent forget his troubles and remind himself that he and Damen were finally together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! (´ω｀*)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H-Hey, guys... Remember me? Haha...Ha. 
> 
> Okay, I'm so, so sorry for basically vanishing. I posted the first chapter of this story when I had the drafts for around four chapters or so already written just so there would be no late chapters and I end up being ridiculously late anyways. orz  
> I was really busy, solving a bunch of IRL problems and trying to get my life in order so I really didn't have the time nor the energy to sit down and write properly. (Besides, the few times I was able to sit down I worked on BOTH chapters, so sometimes chapter 10 was "left behind".). Be that as it may, I'm still not 100% free, but I'll try to update as soon as possible.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this chapter despite the lateness of it (and that you're still willing to read the story! (╥﹏╥) ). Once again, I'm truly sorry!

Laurent walked into the hotel’s apartment in a numb state. Damen held Aimeric in his arms and carried a few plastic bags on the other. In them there were clothes, food and toys Damen had bought from a local store.

While Damen was buying the provisions, Laurent had waited in the car with their children, restless. His state attracted glances towards them. Akielon glances which reminded him of the coffeehouse fours years ago. The car felt small, suffocating, but Laurent did not want to open its windows or doors. Doing so felt like giving anyone outside an opportunity to take him and his children away. His trembling finger slid over the button, deciding if he would open the window or not until the driver’s door opened.

“Sorry, there was a line.” Damen said, placing the bags over his seat and taking a few cookies and handing them over to the boys. “I know it’s not the best food, but you look hungry.”

Damen smiled as he handed another package to Laurent, then took the bags again to put them in the trunk. Even though the man he trusted most in the entire world, the one man he knew had the mental and physical abilities to stop anyone from separating them again was so close by, the simple fact that the car’s door had been left open made Laurent’s hands tremble and his heart beat at an alarming rate. He did not rest until Damen was, once again, inside the car and the doors were locked.

Anxiety had drained the last bit of strength in Laurent’s exhaust body. Nicaise followed Damen into the apartment, getting excited to be in such a luxurious place again.

“I know it’s a little small, but we’ll get a train to Ios tomorrow. Eat, rest and then we’ll go back home.” Damen had the widest of smiles on his face.

Laurent nodded slowly, still dazed by the latest occurrences. He kept staring at Damen, wondering if he was an illusion or if he would suddenly disappear out of his life again. Things were working out and he feared they would last for long.

Damen, on the other hand, was excited, asking what Nicaise wanted to eat, then Aimeric. The image of Damen holding a Veretian toddler reminded Laurent of when Nicaise had come home. Damen had a big heart and not only accepted, but wanted and loved every child Laurent had wished for. Laurent discreetly made his way to the bedroom, trying to keep his feelings from overwhelming him and searching for a place to rest.

When he came out of the bedroom after a while, Damen sat on the couch, dressing Aimeric in his new clothes. Nicaise sat by his side and talked to him, showing Damen his teeth. A few of them had cavities, but Nicaise liked them. They were adult teeth, after all.

Laurent walked into the still steamy bathroom. He turned to the side and found an unknown man staring back at him inside the clear spot on the mirror. He was absolutely filthy, his beard was long and badly kept. He was almost flesh and bone and his skin peeled from spending so long in the sun. He looked hideous, smelled terrible and could barely recognize himself.

Laurent took off his clothes, almost guilty of placing them in the impeccable white floor. He entered the shower stall. His last decent shower had been at Lydos’s house, in a shower much smaller than this one. This time there was no blood running down the drain, but it had almost the same amount of dirt from the previous time. Laurent stared vaguely at it for a while before firm, calloused hands slipped into his hair, massaging it his scalp.

The feeling of it was so strange Laurent jumped. At the very same moment Damen stopped, resting his hands on Laurent’s head with immense delicacy. Damen’s lips approached his ear as he whispered.

“Is this okay?”

Laurent’s heart seemed about to jump out of his chest at that. That sort of gentle caress, the kindness and altruism Damen was so good at were things Laurent had forgotten people were capable of. Laurent sighed and nodded once, feeling his cheeks burn as Damen’s hands moved again.

“What,” Damen voice was weak as the tips of his fingers eventually brushed against Laurent’s scar. He swallowed loudly. “What happened?”

“I got shot. When I escaped the camps.” Laurent told him.

Damen was silent, unsure of what to say. He tried to imagine what Laurent had been through, but felt it was not the right time to ask. Damen’s hand promptly returned to Laurent’s hair as he rinsed it.

“Where are they?” Laurent asked.

“Watching TV. Well, Nicaise is. Aimeric slept.”

“...I’m sorry. I couldn’t leave him there.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s all right.” Damen turned Laurent towards himself, holding his face. “I mean, when have I ever denied you a child?”

Laurent’s amusement escaped in the form of an honest and sudden _Ha!_ , sparking a laugh from Damen. Stroking Laurent’s cheek, Damen leaned in. Laurent wanted it. So much he could barely contain himself. But not like this. Despite the bath, his state was still deplorable, while Damen was so gorgeous, clean and unbelievably perfect. He turned his face.

“Please.” Damen requested, his lips nearly touching Laurent’s cheek. “Just one. It’s been so long.”

“No, I’m-”

“I don’t mind. I really don’t.” Damen asked, eyes open and trying to focus on Laurent’s.

Laurent wanted to deny it, but his body felt hot. He closed his eyes and brushed his lips against Damen’s, the flowing water briefly gathered between them. When Damen kissed him it was as he had promised. Just one, simple and sweet. When he backed away, Laurent could see the desire to go further in his eyes, but Damen did not ask for it. They stared into each others eyes and the whole world disappeared around them.

“Dad?” Nicaise called from outside, pulling them from their intimacy.

“Huh, yes?” Damen asked, wondering if Nicaise was calling for him.

“We’re hungry. Can you make out later?”

Damen laughed. Laurent rolled his eyes and pushed Damen away, quickly washing his body. They got out of the shower together and dried up. Damen dressed himself and was about to leave when he noticed Laurent staring at himself in the mirror.

“Love?”

“I’ll be there in a moment.” Laurent smiled softly.

“All right.” Damen left him by himself and headed into the kitchen, followed by Nicaise and Aimeric.

Damen prepared their dinner while listening intently to Aimeric’s blabbering, half of it completely incomprehensible. Nicaise sat at the table, staring at Damen from the living room, supporting his head on his hands and elbows on the table. Damen rose an eyebrow at him and smiled. Nicaise flushed from getting caught and turned around, sitting on the couch to enjoy the view of the city.

Laurent came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. Damen nearly dropped the pan as he saw his husband’s shaved smile. It was soft, almost imperceptible, but it reminded Damen of the man he had missed for the last four years.

“You look amazing.” Damen smiled foolishly at him, placing the pan on the table.

Laurent approached, sliding his hands on Damen’s chest up to his neck. Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent’s waist, keeping him close.

“Aimeric, don’t touch the pan.” Without breaking apart from his husband Laurent held Aimeric’s hand before he could touch it and felt Damen’s body shake in a chuckle against his body.

 

\-------------

 

Nicaise was up until eleven that night. Not playing, but simply sitting on Damen’s lap, talking to him. An old custom of theirs, which Damen had missed greatly. The warmth of his son in his arms, the sound of his sweet voice - fortunately still not that different from when he had left – and his soft curls against Damen’s fingers.

Aimeric slept in Laurent’s arms as Damen finally put Nicaise to bed with a kiss and a story. Laurent placed Aimeric on the hotel crib beside Nicaise’s bed and held Damen’s hand as they headed to their own bedroom.

Laurent touched the mattress, feeling it give in under his touch. He had forgotten what it was like to sleep in such a comfortable bed. Crawling, the corner of his mouth slightly rose from the feeling. Without realizing, Laurent was flopping to the side, watched by his husband. Damen smiled and the dimple on his cheek made Laurent’s heart skip a beat. Damen knelt and straddled Laurent’s body, leaning down to kiss his lips.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me again.”

Their hug lasted for several minutes, accompanied by soft caresses. Their noses brushing against each other’s skin, lips grazing but never fully kissing, arms and hands desperately touching whatever was in reach.

When the kiss happened it lasted an eternity. The feeling of Damen’s tongue inside his mouth making Laurent melt into his arms. Several specially wonderful kisses and libidinous nights flashed in Laurent’s mind and yet none of them could hold a candle to how wonderful that single moment felt. Breathless, with his heart desperately beating inside his chest, he ran a hand through Damen’s hair, pulling it back. Damen enjoyed the touch and they stared at each other. Laurent’s smile were even more dazzling than Damen remembered. Unfortunately, it did not take long for it to be replaced by worried eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?” Damen asked in a whisper.

“Damen, m-,” Laurent struggled, sitting up. His back against the headboard. “My brother.”

Damen’s eyes were wide for a second. He glanced down before looking back up, into Laurent’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

“No...”

“He lived too close to the border.” Damen continued.

“No.”

“His ashes-”

“No!” Laurent shouted, his hands trembling. “He can’t be, Damen!”

“I’m so, so sorry. His ashes are with me in Ios.”

“How can he be-How can he be-? He’s my brother! It’s-It’s Auguste!” Laurent gave up on trying to wipe the tears stubbornly rolling down his cheeks. “How could he? How could he leave us? How could he leave his nephews!?”

Damen sat, crossing his legs and pulling Laurent onto his lap, holding him tightly. Laurent held onto Damen’s shirt, wetting it.

Damen opened his mouth, trying to think of appropriate words that would never come. There was no answer that could ease Laurent’s pain. Not even years would erase the pain of losing his brother. Nothing would bring Auguste back. So Damen simply held Laurent tightly against himself, allowing his feelings to escape him in the form of tears.

 

\-------------

 

Pallas rushed into the train, almost knocking another man down as he did. He apologized and took his phone out of his bag. He checked the message again: his father saying he needed him to come to Ios for a visit. Damen never used the word “need”, so even though he had told Pallas not to worry it was impossible for him not to.

Reaching the station he headed for the building Damen had been living in. It was a simple building with relatively small apartments. Pallas took the elevator and used his key to get inside. The apartment was a mess. Damen had never obsessed with tidiness – which Pallas figured it was a reflection of Laurent’s tendency to leave objects wherever he wished - but that was too much. Pallas checked the clock. Still two hours for Damen to return home, more than enough time for him to clean everything up. He was almost done when the door opened.

“Hey, dad.” Pallas said, organizing a few documents, making sure not to take them off their piles. “What did you ne-”

Pallas froze as he saw Damen by the door, holding a Veretian toddler and Laurent, much skinnier than Pallas remembered him, walking through the door.

“D-Dad!” Pallas rushed to him and gave him a tight hug. Laurent reciprocated it, but it was too light. He seemed weak. “Dad, I missed you so much!”

“You’re so big.” Laurent let out a soft chuckle. “You’re already a man.”

Pallas laughed and stepped back, his gaze dropping along with his smile. Nicaise stood behind Laurent, eyes wide and teary.

“Nicaise.” Pallas knelt. “I-I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for letting them take you. Please forgive me.”

“I-” Nicaise glanced at his parents, then back at Pallas. “Pallas, you didn’t-”

“I did! I was with Lazar! I’m so, so sorry. I love you.”

“It’s okay. I’m not-” Nicaise approached. He looked at Pallas and grinned. “You come to apologize and don’t even bring chicken nuggets?”

Pallas rose his head, confused. Nicaise used the chance to hug his brother.

“I want to eat the nuggets you make.”

Pallas laughed while tears rolled down his cheeks. He hugged his brother tightly and rose, holding him in his arms.

“I’ll make them right away.”

 

\-------------

 

Nicaise stared at the floor, lost in thought. Pallas played with Aimeric, showing him a pop-up book which gathered Aimeric’s full attention. Pallas turned the page, showing Aimeric the coarse skin of an alligator. Aimeric rubbed his index finger on it, curious.

“Pallas.” Nicaise started.

“Hm? What is it?”

“...Uncle Auguste is dead, isn’t he?”

Pallas widened his eyes and turned to face his brother. Aimeric was too entertained and simply turned the page.

“We went to his building. It was all destroyed and dad said he wasn’t home. But no one’s talking about it. I think they’re hiding it from me because of all that’s happened.”

Pallas lowered his head, unsure of what to say.

“You can just tell me.”

Pallas looked into Nicaise’s eyes, glistening with tears. There was no way to hide it anymore.

“He is.”

Nicaise did not cry. He held it back until much later that night, when everyone else was already asleep. He crawled into Pallas’s bed, hiding his face against his brother’s chest. Pallas pulled him closer, covering him with the blankets and pretending not to hear Nicaise’s sobs.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent stared out the window of their new house, waiting for the car to arrive. Damen had prepared food and some toys, arranging them perfectly in the living room. Laurent rose, deciding to fixate his attention on something else.

He focused on the beautiful backyard which Damen promised to install a pool for the kids later. The backyard was was wider than their old one and the modern black and white architecture of the house had been replaced by a more classically modern, light gray one. It was a huge house, bought in a week so they could have Théodore back as soon as possible without imposing any more changes onto his live. Laurent tried to tell Damen it was too expensive, but Damen disregarded his worries. _Anything for you and our children, my love._ , he had said.

Realizing thinking about all of this was doing nothing more than worry him, Laurent took a deep breath and checked on Pallas and Nicaise. The sound of their laughter, heard as soon as he went upstairs brought peace to his heart. Peeking into Pallas’s room, Laurent found them playing video games on the ground. He decided not to interrupt.

Returning downstairs, he did not look at the toys Damen had set as he headed into the kitchen. Aimeric sat on the counter, legs dangling off the edge, eating small pieces of apple Damen had cut for him. Damen sat in front of him, on a stool, putting on Aimeric’s shoes.

“There. All set. Looking good.” Damen smiled at him. “Excited to meet your brother?”

Aimeric shrugged and Damen laughed, kissing his forehead. Laurent approached and Damen turned to him.

“Hello, my love.” Damen pulled him closer for a kiss on the cheek. “Do you like our new house?”

“Yes. Very much.”

The doorbell rang and the couple turned their heads towards it. Laurent rushed to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. His heart skipped a beat when he found Erasmus on the other side, holding Théodore’s hand. Théo held a teddy bear and hid behind Erasmus’s leg.

“Laurent, it’s great to see you again.” Torveld said and squeezed Laurent’s shoulder.

Laurent’s attention was taken from Théo for a mere second to nod at Torveld.

“Come in, Torveld.” Damen invited, standing behind his husband. Torveld obliged.

“I’m so glad you’re safe!” Erasmus told Laurent and they exchanged a brief hug. “Uh, Théodore, you know who this is?”

Erasmus knelt and pushed Théo’s hair back. It was wavy and black, much like Damen’s. Théo looked at Laurent suspiciously, still hiding behind Erasmus.

“Hello, Théodore. I-” Laurent breathed in, crouching in front of him. “I’m Laurent.”

“He’s the one I told you about. He’s your daddy.” Erasmus told him.

Théo stared at Laurent for a while, then at Erasmus before hiding his face against Eramus’s body. Laurent’s heart broke and Damen was the only one to notice. He approached, crouching beside his husband and smiled at Théodore.

“Hey, Théo. Remember me? Damen? I visited you in Patras.” Damen smiled at him.

Théo looked at him and nodded once.

“Why don’t we go inside? They seem to have prepared a lot of toys for you to play!” Erasmus smiled and rose, holding Théo’s hand.

Laurent and Damen stepped aside, letting them pass. Damen touched Laurent’s lower back, giving him the strength he needed.

When Nicaise and Pallas came downstairs, Pallas introduced himself as Théo’s brother and showed him some toys. Nicaise also approached, introducing not only himself but Aimeric as well, which seemed to make Théo somewhat more relaxed, considering he was no longer the youngest. The easiness did not last long since Aimeric tried to take Théodore’s teddy bear for himself. Laurent and Erasmus worked together to separate the fight, restoring the peace.

Being the center of attention was clearly not one of Théo’s favorite things, yet Pallas had a way to deal with younger children which made things easier. He was able to make Théo come out of his shell, even if just a little bit and Laurent watched that from the kitchen, while Erasmus talked.

“...And he likes to be sang to before sleeping.” Erasmus told them.

“Singing? Well, that’s definitely a job for you, love.” Damen chuckled, turning to Laurent. “Laurent?”

“Huh? What? I’m sorry, yes. Sure. I’ll sing to him.” Laurent nodded. “Thank you for telling us about him, Erasmus. It will make the transition easier.”

Erasmus nodded once as well, looking at Théo. His eyes filled up with tears and the drank from the glass of water he had received. Torveld caressed his back.

“We should probably get going. While he’s having fun.” Torveld suggested.

Erasmus nodded and stood, walking up to Théo along with Torveld. Théodore, who had been laughing, running around with Pallas, stopped and stared at him. Erasmus smiled and knelt.

“Listen, Théo, me and Torveld will be going now. We’ll come back tomorrow. How about you stay and play with your brothers?”

“No! I wanna go with you, Erasmus!” Théo quickly said, holding his hand.

“Théo, but your brothers and fathers will miss you so much. Why don’t you try staying here?” Erasmus tried to keep his composure.

“Would you like to see the room you’ll be sleeping tonight if you stay?” Laurent suggested.

“It’s a really cool room!” Pallas told him, excited.

Théo nodded, but did not let go of Erasmus as they went upstairs. Théodore’s room was lovely. Blue walls, colorful furniture and many places to play, including a small white tent. Toys were put in a chest matching the decoration. It was like entering the dreams of any four year old. Yet, that did not make the separation easier. Théodore refused to let go of Erasmus when the time came.

“Maybe Erasmus can stay for the night. Would that be okay, Théodore?” Laurent suggested.

Damen glanced at him, while tapping on Aimeric’s back. The uprising had made him restless.

“Will you stay, Erasmus? You promise you won’t leave without me?” Théo pouted.

“Of course, sweetheart. I would never lie to you. I’m staying.” Erasmus told him, caressing his head. “Why don’t you go play for a while?”

“Where are you going?” Théo asked.

“Just downstairs. You can ask Pallas to take you there if you want to.” Erasmus looked at Pallas, who nodded back at him.

“…Okay.” Théo nodded and held Pallas’s hand.

The four adults headed back into the kitchen. The moment hung for a while before Erasmus spoke.

“I don’t understand. I told him so many time about you, I told him you were his father and-”

“That I would take him from you one day? I wonder _why_ he did not want to stay.” Laurent mocked.

“I-I never-!” Erasmus widened his eyes.

“That’s enough.” Damen interrupted. “Fighting will lead nowhere. Listen, for today Erasmus will stay here. We’ll find you a room. We can't have this starting with the one person he trusts most betraying him.”

Laurent sat on the kitchen stool and ate a few grapes from a bowl. No one else spoke anymore. The discussions were over.

 

\-------------

 

Monday sun had barely risen and chaos had already been installed. Erasmus held a crying Théo in his arms, tapping his back and kissing his cheeks. Torveld waited by the door, arms crossed a hand covering his mouth.

“Don’t go, Erasmus!” Théo cried, hugging Erasmus’s neck. “Please!”

“Théo, please listen, I have to go now. You belong here, with your family.”

“But I wanna live with you!”

“I-But Théo, this is your family. Listen, I love you very much, we’ll visit each other! You can come to Patras and we can go to the park.”

“Then let’s go now!” Théo proposed. “Don’t leave me!”

“I’m not leaving you, sweetie. I just-”

Damen rubbed his face, taking a deep breath. A glance to the side gave him a view of Laurent’s jaws rigid, his fingers digging into the skin of his crossed arms. He was not in a position to do anything. Damen would have to act on it.

Approaching his son, Damen crouched, caressing Théo’s head. A small hand pushed his away in a gentle, shy manner. Damen took it and caressed it with his thumb. Théo did not take his hand away, but the other did not let go of Erasmus’s neck.

“Théo, listen, we understand this is hard. We don’t want you to be sad, because we love you very, very much.” Damen’s voice was soft as he spoke. “All we want is for you to give us a chance. Stay with us for a little while, see if you like it here. You enjoyed being with your brothers, right?”

Théo nodded.

“Can’t-” The boy started, in a whisper. “Can’t my brothers come with me and Erasmus?”

Damen watched Laurent shift from the corner of his eye, but pretended not to notice. He smiled, stroking Théo’s cheek with his thumb.

“But if you took them, we would have no sons. Me and Laurent, you see, we love each other very much. But we also love you all just as much. The people who gave you to Erasmus took you from us, and we have been waiting for you to come back for so, so long. We waited almost all your life to see you again.”

“All my life?”

“Yeah. It’s a long time, right?”

Théo nodded again.

“So, could you please just give it a try? Just stay here for a while. Playing with your brothers, with us. We can take you to parks, to the mall or anywhere you want… You think you could do that?”

“… Then why can’t Erasmus stay? He stayed yesterday! And the day before that!”

“Because I need to go back. Adults have certain responsibilities they just can’t not do. You know when I tell you to put your toys back where you found them? It’s like that, but much, much, much more important!” Erasmus explained.

“More important than the toys?”

“Much more important than the toys.” Erasmus smiled at him.

“And when will you be done?”

“It might take a while. But listen, I will come visit you whenever I can, okay? And Damen, Laurent, Torveld and I will always, always try to make things better for you, okay? Give them a chance, stay for a while, then we’ll see what we can do to make you the happiest little boy, okay?”

Théo nodded, hesitantly letting go of Erasmus’s neck. Damen offered his hands and Théo held them. It all seemed fine as Erasmus kissed Théodore’s cheeks, said his brief goodbyes to Damen and Laurent and left, Torveld’s hand on his back as he entered the car. The sound of the engine turning off was accompanied by the faint sound of Théo asking them to wait. Torveld noticed Erasmus flinching and ordered the driver to leave. Erasmus turned back after a few seconds and saw Théodore running after the car before Damen grabbed him and picked him up. Seeing Théo wailing and squirming in Damen’s arms made Erasmus turn back to face the seat in front of him and cry. Torveld pulled him closer, letting Erasmus grab onto him.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent was not the same. He had not been since he had come back. He was now distant, cold and Damen had not seen him smile ever since Théodore had come home. Laurent also spent a long time simply staring at things, touching them, as if he had never seen them before. It was not the first time Damen had found him staring at the kitchen cabins and utensils as he cooked.

“Do you like them?” Damen asked with a smile.

“Yes, Damen. I do.” Laurent curtly replied.

“Is Aimeric still taking a nap?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Damen touched Laurent’s back but soon had to remove it, since Laurent moved away. “I was thinking, we could go somewhere. We haven’t left the house much.”

“I don’t feel like it.” Laurent replied, putting the baking tray in the oven. “I need to go check on Théodore.”

Laurent was rushing out of the kitchen as Damen held him by the forearm.

“It’s okay. He’s playing with Pallas and Nicaise. Come here, sit for a while.”

“I did not take my son away from Erasmus to leave him alone. I’m going to be with him.” Another crude reply from Laurent.

“...All right. Well, we need to get Aimeric’s documents, so-”

“Go ask your friend Nikandros.” Laurent interrupted. “Because without the letter his mother left me he’ll be taken from us. And I _swear_ , if he dares to open his mouth to the authorities and take my son away from me-”

“He won’t.”

“I sure hope you’re right.”

Laurent turned and left, marching out of the kitchen, going upstairs. Damen sat on the kitchen stool and rubbed his face, sighing.

 

\-------------

 

When Damen called, Nikandros knew he had to get Loyse’s letter no matter what. Damen might be forgiving, but there must be a limit to his kindness. And Nikandros had pushed that limit several times during the last four years. Thankfully, the letter was still safe inside Laurent’s file Nikandros had stolen from the camps and he wasted no time to hand them over to Damen.

Their worries, however, were far from over. Laurent sat on the couch, refusing to accept the reality Hestia threw at him. His eyes focused on her with arms crossed, tense in front of his body. Damen hid his hands on his face, inhaling deeply before raising his head.

“I don’t understand. Why is this happening? We have his mother’s letter.”

“Damianos, please understand.” Hestia started. “This is a letter wrote by a woman inside a confinement camp. It doesn’t have any legal value, at least not until it the proper authorities verify it’s authenticity.”

“But Aimeric has no family! How can you take him from, let’s call us, a host family to shove him into an orphanage!?”

“Because at this very moment, Damianos, Laurent is his kidnapper.”

“What!?” Damen rose. “He took Aimeric from the camps! This boy came home with his bones showing through his skin!”

“It’s not me saying this, please understand. In the eyes of the law, whether people agree or not, Laurent has taken a child that did not belong to him.”

“But he-”

“Look, there is a good chance they will return Aimeric to you. The judge will hear the whole story, your side, he will hear Aimeric as well, but for the time being he can’t stay here. There needs to be an examination of Laurent’s current mental state, Aimeric’s living conditions and the authenticity of Loyse’s letter. Believe me, after everything, taking Aimeric away from you is the last thing I want to do.”

Damen sat back down, his hand on Laurent’s knee. Without a single word, Laurent rose, going up the stairs. Aimeric’s moving was not as smooth as Théodore’s. Unlike Aimeric, Théodore understood very well that his brother might not return. His cries and the whole tenseness of the environment made Aimeric even more terrified. When Hestia took him, she was slapped on the face and kicked just below her chest. Laurent tried to calm him down, while Damen did the same to Théo. The house became an excruciating cacophony of desperate cries.

This was not how it was supposed to be, Damen thought. Laurent was supposed to come back home and be with his children and husband, at peace. But now he had forcefully taken his son back from his foster parent and in return he had his fourth son taken away. Meanwhile, his two older son’s watched, comforting each other. After Aimeric had finally been put in the car, Laurent approached them and gave each one a tight hug. 

 

\-------------

 

It was still dark when Damen woke up. He realized Laurent was no longer by his side and waited, struggling to keep himself awake, expecting Laurent to return from the bathroom. Except there were no sounds, nor light coming from it. Damen rose and rubbed his eyes. Still sleepy, he put on his pants and heard a sound coming from downstairs. It was the sound of a door unlocking. Then locking. Then unlocking again, spaced between five or ten seconds.

Damen went downstairs to find Laurent leaving and entering the house several times, taking a couple seconds to step outside and look up at the sky before taking a deep breath.

“Laurent?”

Laurent glanced back and sighed.

“What are you doing here? Come back to bed. It’s chilly.” Damen asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m fine.”

“Shall I bring you a chair then?” Damen chuckled. “You’ll end up getting tired of standing there.”

The corner of Laurent’s mouth rose in a forced smile and he went inside. Damen followed him, closing the door behind them. Laurent poured a glass of water for himself and sat on the kitchen stool to drink it.

“You should go to bed. You have to go to work in a few hours.”

“It’s all right. I’ll keep you company.” Damen smiled, pushing Laurent’s hair behind his ear.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I was thinking we could spend some time together. Maybe talk for a bit?”

“Talk about what, Damen?” Laurent rolled his eyes.

“About what’s happening. About what you’re feeling.”

“Just leave me alone, Damen. I don’t want to talk. Just give me space.”

Damen did not want to do so. He had given Laurent space. Over a month of it. They needed to talk.

“I have, Laurent. But even so, you seem to drift further away from me. All I want is for you to be yourself again.”

Laurent snorted, placing his glass on the counter.

“‘Be myself again’? I will never be the same, Damen. Ever. If that’s what you’re looking for, you’re better off finding another husband.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! And what are you even saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m tired, Damen. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired of doing everything in my power to keep the important things in my life with me, just to fail again and again!”

“I understand that, but-”

“You understand? Hah!” Laurent rolled his eyes and threw his head back, turning his back on Damen. His forced laugh exhaling mockery. “Sure you do. You suffered a lot, right?”

“I did.” Damen frowned and rose. “You weren’t there with me.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Laurent’s voice was low, yet filled with aggression. “I was in a fucking confinement camp being fed pig ration, watching those around me get shot to death and hoping, with all my heart, that my sons would not be next!”

Damen closed his fist, furious at the thought of someone doing such atrocities to his family.

“And when I finally left, I went to live on the streets to escape a disgusting fuck who tried to get his hands on my ten and one year old sons! I was beaten, I was thrown out like a piece of garbage, I had to use a knife to keep my children from watching me get raped but _you_ understand me, right!?” Laurent’s face was flushed with rage.

Damen tried to control himself, tried not to want to go find every single person that had mistreated Laurent and beat them to a pulp.

“You, who kept on living in our lovely house, getting filthy rich. Such a hard life, huh?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Does this look like a joke to you?”

“How can you say that? This is not a competition. Everyone suffered from this.”

“Well, you wanted me to talk. I talked. Now go to sleep. You have a few million sols to earn, Mr. Chairman.” Laurent left the kitchen and Damen followed him into the living room.

“Are you actually angry because I have money? Are you kidding me? What did you want me to do? Deny it? This money allowed me to go find you when war was over!”

“What I _wanted_ was to be left alone!”

“I did, Laurent! I’ve left you alone for over a month! You don’t talk to me anymore, I can barely touch you...”

“Oh, so this is what this is all about. You want to fuck.” Laurent snorted.

“Wha-You know what, Laurent? Fine. Forget I ever said anything.” Damen rose his hands in surrender and took a deep breath, heading towards the stairs.

“No, come, let’s fuck! That’s what I am to you, right? A pretty blond fuck.”

“Laurent, shut the fuck up!” Damen shouted, his deep voice echoing through the walls and, finally, making Laurent quiet. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t say another word.”

Damen turned and his long legs skipped steps as he went upstairs. Laurent did not come back to bed that night.

 

\-------------

 

For the next couple days the house was overall quiet. The only noises came from the kids playing. Damen and Laurent exchanged the necessary words and nothing else. At night, Laurent would wait for the children to bed before going downstairs to sleep on the couch.

There were no hugs, no gentle touches, no loving kisses during the day. For the children’s sake, Damen and Laurent kissed each other’s cheeks before Damen went to work, but it was nothing but a mere formality for them. Nicaise did not fall for that anymore, though.

“What is the matter with you and dad?” He whispered at Laurent while they took the laundry out of the dryer.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

“Don’t lie.”

Laurent sighed.

“It’s nothing, Nicaise. Please don’t push it.” Laurent rose, picked up the basket and gave it to him. “Fold this and put it in your dresser, please.”

Nicaise frowned and picked up his basket, marching up to his room. Laurent peeked into the living room and saw Théodore still drawing on the small table set for him. Laurent carried the basket to the couch and started folding the clothes over the coffee table.

Being left alone with Théodore had become difficult. Théodore did not talk much and Laurent still felt he did not know him. The strong connection they once shared had become frail and Laurent did not with to break it completely by forcing himself upon Théodore.

“Laurent.” Théo called, shattering Laurent’s heart in the process. “I made a drawing for you.”

Surprised and excited, Laurent turned his head to look at him. Théodore had his head down, blue eyes looking up to find Laurent’s and a small sheet of paper in his hand. He approached slowly, placing the drawing beside the basket of clothes. It was a simple drawing of a house, with a bright sun with a big smile.

“It’s very nice, Théodore. How about we put it on the fridge?”

“No, this one is just for you!” Théo said.

“Oh, okay. Thank you! Then I will leave it right here and when I go upstairs to put away my clothes, I will put it in a very special place in my room. How does that sound?” Laurent smiled softly.

“Okay! But did you like it?”

“I loved it! It’s really beautiful!”

“Are you happy?” Théodore asked, his eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“Huh-Yes. Yes, it made me very happy.”

“I’m glad. You’re always so sad. I wanted to make you happy.”

Laurent froze in shock at the realization that his son saw him as a sad person. Laurent was back home, had his three sons and his husband back with him, and yet he was still just as miserable as he had been during the last few years.

“That’s very nice of you. Thank you, sweetheart.” Laurent smiled softly. “Would it be okay if I gave you a hug?”

“Okay.” Théo nodded and shyly reached out.

Laurent picked him up by the armpits and squeezed him into his arms. It was the first time Théodore had given him a hug in four years and it was one most incredible feelings he had in a long time.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” Théo laughed.

“Yes.” Laurent chuckled, then whispered. “It’s because I love you very much.”

 

\-------------

 

The overall mood of dinner was better that day. Laurent had received Damen home with a simple “hello”, which had been enough to have Damen raising his eyebrows at him. The corner of Laurent’s lips rose for a second before he took Théodore into the kitchen.

During dinner, Laurent was about to ask for the salt when Damen handed it over to him across the table. Their eyes met, their fingertips touched for a second longer than necessary, then Théodore tumbled his cup. Damen picked it up and Laurent cleaned up the table. The same kind of wordless, synchronized action they used to do years ago.

Having put the children to sleep, Damen headed to his room and Laurent to the living room, as they had done the past two evenings. Damen sat on the bed, reading, when Laurent walked in. He had his pillow and blanket in hand before dropping them onto their bed. Damen put down his book and stared at him for a while. Laurent’s jaw dropped a few times, his lips trying to form words without much success.

“I shouldn’t have said those things.” He admitted, a bright flush on his cheeks. “Théodore hated me, Aimeric was be taken from us, my-”

Laurent paused, needing a moment to continue.

“...My brother’s dead.”

Damen offered his hand and Laurent stared at it. Hesitantly, afraid to show any signs of weakness, Laurent took it. Damen pulled him closer slowly, and Laurent followed until he was seated on his feet, atop his blanket and in front of Damen.

“What do you need from me?” Damen asked, tucking a strand of Laurent’s hair behind his ear.

Laurent tilted his head towards Damen’s hand, then kissed it softly.

“Just… Stay.”

Laurent’s kiss to Damen’s lips was gentle, merely a brush of lips. When he approached once more, there was another. And another, and another. Laurent slid his lips to the base of Damen’s neck, hiding his face there. Damen wrapped his arms around him and Laurent held onto Damen’s biceps, inhaling the smell of soap from his husband’s skin.

Every touch, breath and caress felt familiar. Laurent regretted every second he had spent not touching Damen after they reunited. Sliding his fingers into Damen’s hair, they fell on the soft mattress, Damen’s head knocking Laurent’s fingers together.

“Ow.” Laurent’s speech was muffled by his lips pressed against Damen’s neck.

They laughed. More than they should, as much as they needed.

“Damen...” Laurent asked, eyes watery and hands trembling. “What am I going to do without them?”

“Everything will work out, my love.” Damen stroked his cheek. “It will be hard, but it will work out. And I’ll be here for you every step of the way. I know I can’t bring Auguste back and that I have no power over Aimeric’s fate, but… I will be here, to help you overcome whatever happens. I promise.”

“You shouldn’t promise things like this.” Laurent whispered, his cheeks flushed.

“Laurent.” Damen started, holding his husband’s face. “I don’t care what you say or what you do. I will never stop loving you.”

Laurent’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared into Damen’s eyes. They were as truthful as the words he spoke and Laurent could barely believe how lucky he had been to have met him.

“I missed you.” Laurent unthinkingly confessed.

“I did too. I thought about you everyday.”

Laurent smiled at him, placing a kiss on his cheek. The first of many others, followed by caresses that led to a long night of sweet, gentle love. Being in Damen’s arms again, feeling his soft touches felt like a dream. So wonderful that Laurent was almost afraid he would eventually wake up. But when morning came, Damen still slept by his side. A soft snore leaving his open lips and a hand over his own chest. Laurent stroked his husband’s abdomen and kissed his forehead. He understood then, that it was not another dream. It was real and Damen would never let him being taken again. Laurent felt safe as he lay on Damen’s arm, cuddling up to his body to enjoy the next few minutes before their children woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for your patience!


	11. Chapter 11

Théo slowly blinked at the screen, holding his teddy bear, forcing himself to stay awake.

“Théo, I have to go now, okay?” Erasmus said.

“No!” Théo sat up. “Don’t go! I’m still awake!” 

“Which is bad. You need to sleep, sweetie. We’ll talk a bit more some other time, all right? You know you can always ask your daddies.” 

“But, Erasmus, I didn’t tell you, I,” Théo rose his eyebrows in fake innocence. “I didn’t tell you about, about that… Thing that happened today.”

“...What thing?” Erasmus knew it to be a lie, but he could not resist taking the bait. 

“You know, me-Huh-Me and Laurent, you see,” Théo did not dare to look at Erasmus as he spoke. Typical liar behavior. “We-we played. And you know what we played?” 

“What?” 

“We, huh, he was the customer and, you know- We played- In the yard. And-”

“That’s wonderful, honey! I’m glad you and Daddy Laurent are having lots of fun. He’s really great. Now, I really have to go, okay? Good night.”

“No! But Erasmus-!” 

“Théo, please.” Erasmus sighed. “I have to go. I know you very well and I know you’re just trying to stall.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. And it’s past your bed time. Now, go to sleep and we’ll talk later, okay? Good night.”

Left with no alternative, Théo lowered his head pouting and squeezed his teddy bear. He remember well the first time he had refused to say good bye and Erasmus had finished the call. Théodore had spent almost an hour crying over the fact he could not say good night. He learned his lesson and never again refused to do so.

“...Good night, Erasmus.” He murmured.

“I love you.” Erasmus smiled.

“I love you too.” Another murmur. 

Then Erasmus hung up. Théo pushed the laptop off his lap and got off the bed, opening the door and heading towards Laurent and Damen’s room. They sat on the bed, Laurent leaning against Damen and Nicaise chatting up with them, sitting on Damen’s lap.

“Laurent.” Théo called. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you done?” 

Théo nodded and approached, receiving a kiss from Damen and a pat on the head from Nicaise as Laurent rose from the bed. Holding Théo’s hand, Laurent took him back to his room and put him to bed.

“Good night, sweetheart.” 

“Laurent.”

“Yes?”

“Will you stay with me for a little while?” 

Laurent’s heart seemed about to jump out of his chest. He put down the laptop and lay beside his son, caressing his head until Théo’s bright blue eyes closed in sleep. Laurent returned to his room with a soft smile on his lips.

“Did he argue?” Damen asked.

“No.” Laurent sat by his side. “He asked me to stay.” 

Laurent said and Damenn held his hand.

“That's wonderful, love.”

 

\-------------

 

It was painful. No other word could define it as Erasmus finished his call with Théo. He inhaled deeply, then closed Skype, opening his browser. Torveld approached him from behind, placing a hot cocoa on his desk.

“Here. For you.”

“Thank you.” Erasmus forced a smile.

“How’s Théo?”

“Fine.” Erasmus drank from his cup. “He learned to write a few letters. Here.”

Erasmus opened a file and showed Torveld the screencap of Théo showing Erasmus his writing. The “s”s in “Erasmus” were backwards and all the other letters somewhat shaky.

“That’s so cute.” Torveld smiled and kissed Erasmus’s head. “Shall we have dinner, then go to bed?”

“Sure. I still have to look for Kallias, though, so you can go to bed first.” 

Erasmus lowered his eyes, cheeks gently flushed. Torveld felt a sting to his heart from the sight, but pretended not to by nodding in agreement. They rose and prepared dinner. While the microwave did its work, Torveld stroked Erasmus’s cheek, receiving a kiss on his palm in return. The beeping of the microwave kept him from wondering what Erasmus might be thinking and feeling at the moment.

They ate before Erasmus returned to the computer to look for Kallias. Torveld sat nearby, working on his own computer and stealing glances. He watched the way Erasmus’s brows furrowed in focus, the way he bit his lip and the way his whole expression changed when he found a profile that might be Kallias’s. It was over two hours later before they were finally in bed, ready to sleep. Erasmus cuddled against Torveld, holding his hand. Torveld’s chin rested on his head for a while.

“Can I ask you something?” Torveld asked.

“Hm? Of course.” Erasmus backed away to face him.

“This Kallias, this ‘friend’ of yours… Do you love him?” 

Erasmus sat up, staring at Torveld.

“No! I-I-”

“It’s all right. You can tell me if you are. I won’t throw you on the street, I won’t be mad, or anything. I just want you to tell me the truth. Do you love him?”

“I,” Erasmus started, his face and ears red as he whispered. “I don’t know.” 

“I see.” Torveld sat up as well, his legs bent and arms wrapped around them. 

“But I-I really love you! I swear! I’m not here because of the house or the things you provide. I swear!” Erasmus grabbed Torveld’s arm.

“I know. You’re not the type who’ll pretend to like someone for interest.” Torveld smiled, kissing his cheek. “But you’re confused and it’s fine. If you really love this Kallias, then I can understand. I just want you to promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll be happy. Whether it’s with me, Kallias or whoever it is. Even alone if it’s what’s best for you. Promise me you’ll put your happiness in first place.” 

Erasmus’s eyes glistened with tears and he hugged Torveld.

“I promise.” He whispered.

Torveld kissed his lips, making sure to memorize the way they felt against his own. Then hoped, from the bottom of his heart, he would be able to feel it for the rest of his life.

 

\-------------

 

Laurent’s day were tedious. He never left the house and, no matter how big it was, it had become suffocating. Damen had stopped inviting him, probably not wanting to disrespect Laurent’s healing time. Even so, Laurent wished he would. More than ever.

The one time Laurent managed to leave the house it was to take Théodore and Nicaise to the park, without much success. Being a Veretian caring for two children with Veretian blood in their veins became too overwhelming. Even though not one bit of it showed on this face Laurent grew more and more anxious with every glare, every frown thrown his or his son’s way. Every adult that approached his sons made Laurent’s muscles tense up, ready to rise and rush to their rescue.

More than humiliated he felt angry at himself. Instead of standing proud of overcoming everything he had been through, instead of imposing himself, he was hiding in his husband’s sweater. Letting the smell of Damen deceive him into believing he was not alone. It took him less than an hour to decide to call it a day and return home. The kids were frustrated, Laurent was frustrated. It was stressful for everyone.

“Maybe you could try somewhere different. Start with our yard and-” Damen suggested as they got ready for bed that night.

“I can’t stand the yard anymore, Damen. I want to go out, I want to be free. I’ve waited four years to get my freedom back and I still don’t have it.”

“I know, my love, but-” Damen sighed. “What can I do to help you? This is something that I can’t help you with. I can give you love, support, encouragement, anything, but I can’t make your brain comprehend there is nothing to fear.”

Laurent was silent for a moment, his eyes unfocused, staring at the floor.

“How can you be sure?” He started in a whisper.

“Of what?”

“How can you be sure there is nothing to fear? We never thought there was anything to fear before and we were taken.”

“Kastor has been impeached and arrested, they are seizing everyone that collaborated with the camps.” In Damen’s mind the image of Nikandros behind thick glass, holding a phone came in a flash. “Their behavior is no longer approved now that people know what happened in there.”

Laurent wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so badly, but his heart refused to listen to the logic his brain offered.

“Try to get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” 

Laurent nodded and they got ready for bed. Yet he did not feel better. If taking almost two hours to sleep had not been exhausting enough his sleep was far from peaceful. Like so many other nights, he had nightmares. Of waking up in the camps; of his children being taken from him, murdered in cold blood; of Damen dying like his brother had. Laurent trashed enough to wake up Damen. Still sleepy, Damen tried to wake up his husband but it was futile. Nothing he did seemed enough and it was getting frustrating.

“Laurent, wake up!” Damen nearly shouted and Laurent finally woke up. 

When Laurent opened his eyes he did not see Damen. He saw dark skin, someone bigger than him hovering over his body. He pushed, punched and tried to kick, but found his legs entangled on the sheets, increasing his despair.

“Laurent, calm down!” Damen tried to hold Laurent’s arms. “It’s me, it’s Damen!”

Upon hearing the name Laurent finally managed to calm down, breathing harshly. He looked around. His room was still intact, Damen was right by his side. Laurent touched Damen’s chest, his neck, his face before allowing himself to breath a second time.

“Are you okay? You were trashing in your sleep and you’re crying.” Damen whispered. 

“I-” Laurent tried to form words but his brain did not allow him to. He hid his face on his hands and took a deep breath. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you have a nightmare again?” Damen sat up stroking his back.

“I did. But it’s fine now. Everything’s fine.” 

“Yes, you’re right.” Damen told him, one hand on his back. “Everything is fine now. There’s nothing to fear.” 

Lowering his hands, Laurent stared into Damen’s eyes. Always so soft and kind.

“I know. I know.” Laurent told Damen, then himself, before wrapping his arms around Damen’s neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s all right. I know you didn’t.” 

Damen reassured him, then held him in his arms. His own way of showing he was there to protect Laurent no matter what. It worked every time. They went back to sleep like that.

 

\-------------

 

  


Damen was cautious while approaching the subject. The last thing he wanted was to pressure Laurent into leaving the house. But after the incident in the park he felt it was necessary. Damen sat on the kitchen stool, using his laptop.

“Love.”

“Hm?” Laurent sat across the island, eating an apple.

“Théodore has seen this commercial on TV about a ferris wheel they installed at the mall.”

“At the mall?” Laurent rose his eyebrows. “That’s impressive.”

“Right? He’s very excited to go. Perhaps we could?” Damen looked at Laurent from behind his laptop with pleading eyes.

Laurent looked at him, then lowered his head, staring at the half-eaten apple.

“All right. We can go on the weekend.”

Damen smiled widely, offering his hand. Laurent took it and ate the rest of his apple.

The mall was lively, but not enough to make Laurent extremely anxious. It was the perfect amount of people. They got into the line for the ferris wheel and Laurent nearly killed Damen when he informed he had to step away to go to the bathroom. _Wonderful._ , thought Laurent.

With a deep breath, Laurent tried to keep calm. Pallas played with his brothers, distracting them from the glances and from their own father’s tenseness. The line got shorter and shorter until Laurent was next. Like a child, waiting for their mother at the supermarket, Laurent felt anxious, hoping Damen would return soon. He did not. They were called and Laurent approached.

“Huh-Hello.” The woman widened their eyes at them.

“Hello. I would like two tickets for the ferris wheel. Hm, can these two go together?” Laurent showed her Nicaise and Théodore.

It took the woman a second, but she nodded.

“Of course! Are they all yours?”

“Yes, they are my children.” In Laurent’s mind, the woman was ready to call the police on him.

“What a beautiful family!” She smiled and gave them the tickets. “Since your brother is a bit small, you’ll ride with him, okay?”

“That was the plan all along, miss.” Nicaise honestly said and the woman could not help but laugh.

“Nicaise! I apologize.” Laurent sighed and, for some reason, that allowed him to relax.

“My brother is a bit too honest. Please don’t mind him.”

“I didn’t, don’t worry.” The woman smiled at them.

Damen returned shortly after to find Laurent holding his phone, taking pictures of Théodore and Nicaise on the ferris wheel.

“Sorry, the line was a bit long.”

“It’s all right.” Laurent smiled softly. “Nothing happened.”

“We just freaked out the ticket booth lady with our multi-colored family.” Pallas added with a chuckle.

“I see.” Damen kissed Laurent’s head and stroked his back.

  


\-------------

  


“Laurent,” Théo whispered, while eating some ice cream. “Why is that lady’s belly so weird?”

At least Théodore had the decency of whispering, unlike Nicaise or Pallas who at that age would have shouted the question as they saw a pregnant woman.

“She’s pregnant. This means she has a baby inside her belly.”

“Did she eat her baby!?” Théo widened his eyes.

“No.” The family held back a laugh. “You see, to make a baby, the daddy, a man, places a little seed inside the mommy’s, a woman’s, belly.”

“A seed? Like a plant?” Théo crooked his neck to the side.

Damen and Nicaise were having the time of their lives while Pallas tried – Being quite unsuccessful – to be angry at them. This was a serious conversation after all.

“Hm, kind of. You see, the daddy has the seed and the mommy turns that little seed into a baby. Which is why two daddys or two mommies can’t have a baby on their own.”

“So how come you two have us?” 

“I’ll get there.” Laurent pinched his nose and Théo laughed. “Well, there is something called ‘birth parents’ or ‘biological parents’. Those have to be a mommy and a daddy. When two daddies or two mommies want to have a baby, they go to a place called an orphanage, where they have a lot of children whose mommies and daddies couldn’t keep them, for many reasons.” 

“That’s where Aimeric is, isn’t it? An orphi-Orphanu-” 

“Orphanage.” The corner of Laurent’s mouth rose for a moment. “Yes, that’s where he is.”

“Is it a nice place?” 

The room went silent at his question.

“Hey, you wanna go to the ball pit?” Damen rose, picking Théo up by the armpits and throwing him over his own shoulder like a sack of flour. “Come on! I’m gonna throw you in there!”

Damen chuckled and tapped on Théo’s bottom. Théo laughed, somewhat torn between wanting an answer and loving the fun Damen knew how to bring. Laurent waved at them and Nicaise took the opportunity to ask.

“Is it?” 

“‘Is it’ what?” Laurent asked.

“A nice place. Is he in a good orphanage?” 

“...I don’t know.” Laurent admitted. 

Nicaise frowned but did not ask any further questions. Pallas exchanged looks with Laurent, remembering his own experiences. The orphanage was not a place he would call _bad_. He had been treated well, cared for, made friends… But those friends left, others stayed, and there was always the fear of rejection looming over. Of being left there until legal age, or worse: To be returned like a faulty product.

Pallas still remembered the terrified expressions on his friends faces as he was returned crying and had to drag his feet in shame towards his bed. None of them spoke, nor did they move. All probably imagining what it would be like to share the same fate. He wondered how much of those emotions could a two year old like Aimeric comprehend. Nicaise remembered almost nothing of his time in the orphanage and, in the end, Pallas wished Aimeric would not either.

  


\-------------

  


Pallas woke up feeling exhausted. Nicaise had kept him up until late at night, complaining about the silliest things. Puberty was slowly reaching him and Pallas did not feel excited about that part. _Perhaps_ _he_ _could skip it and make him a teenager already_ , Pallas wondered as he lazily changed and left for class.

“Hey, Pallas!” One of his few friends approached him. “You gonna come with us to check on the freshman?” 

“Have I ever?” Pallas rose an eyebrow. 

“Oh, come on, man. This is your last year here!”

“If I pass all my classes you mean.” Pallas continued to type on his phone. 

“Like you ever fail anything.” His friend frowned. “Still, you almost never go out, you barely talk to anyone, let’s go there! You can’t waste your youth!”

Again with that talk. Maybe if Pallas actually did something considered “normal” for a young man they would stop bothering him.

“Fine, I’ll go.” Pallas rolled his eyes and put his phone away. His friend cheered and Pallas laughed at him.

He was right, though. Pallas barely did anything except worry during the last years. Worry about his family, worry about Lazar, worry about his studies, worry about being bullied… It seemed like a never ending mess of worries with no end in sight.

But it was fine now. He could relax, he could go out, have proper friends, maybe even go on a date with someone... Except he could not. He had tried once to forget about Lazar. He had also tried to forget his problems by getting very drunk. His friends thought it was funny how bold Pallas had become that night. But truth was he simply did not want to be tied forever to someone who might as well be dead.

Even so, he was. So tied up to the faint hope of seeing Lazar again that not even the alcohol, not even the gorgeous face and firm hands of his partner were enough to erase it. Pallas pushed him away, holding back his tears. He could see the man was frustrated. Pallas apologized and left the bar. It was not the same. Pallas did not want a handsome face, a gentle touch and Akielon proficiency. He wanted an ivory skin, a Veretian accent, a rough face and a bold, yet caring handling. He wanted Lazar and no one else. And he had not gone on dates since then.

“I’ll be fine, I’m telling you. This will be a good opportunity to bond with the new guys.” 

Pallas chuckled at that. Like he was able to “bond” with anyone.

The other veterans were already there when they arrived. Pallas came out of the building shyly, being pulled by the arm. He rose his head when one of the freshmen suddenly rose. Pallas felt his legs wobble and his eyes water. With short steps he approached, standing nothing but a few inches from Lazar, touching his cheeks.

“Hey-” Lazar started but was interrupted by Pallas’s kiss. 

There was not a single pair of eyes not widened in shock inside that room. They all exchanged glances, immensely confused about the way Pallas grabbed the hair on the back of Lazar’s head, forcing his mouth open by pulling his head to the side as they passionately kissed.

“Dude, that’s not what I meant by ‘bond with the freshmen’!” 

Pallas heard and chuckled through the kiss. Lazar’s hands had lost no time and stroked and squeezed Pallas’s behind.

“I told you to stop that.” Pallas whispered, his nose rubbing against Lazar’s. 

“Oops. It’s been so long I forgot.” 

“It really has.” 

“I’m a little late but… I told you I’d work hard to be able to get into the same college as you, didn’t I?” 

“You did.” Pallas laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes before hugging Lazar’s neck. “I-I love you. Please don’t go away again.” 

Lazar laughed.

“I’ll try.”

“I won’t let you.” Pallas kissed his lips again. “Ever. I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” 

“Do not expect this kind of welcome from everyone else, you hear me!?” Pallas’s friend shouted, making it clear for the other freshmen.

 

\-------------

 

The whole courtroom had been silent during Laurent’s statement, while he discoursed about the issues he had faced during his time in the camps and explaining the reason he had taken Aimeric. No one spoke, people barely blinked or breathed. The courtroom’s environment was heavy with shock and guilt. When it was over, the judge allowed him to return to his seat. He was already seated, his hand slowly, imperceptibly sliding over Damen’s to hold it before anyone spoke again. Damen stroked his fingers with his thumb, smiling kindly at him.

“You were very brave.” Damen whispered.

There had also been discussions regarding Aimeric’s statement; – given in a private room and played to the courtroom on a television – about Laurent’s condition, explained by thoroughly the psychologist he had been assigned to; the charges against him - which had been dropped - and the living conditions of the rest of Laurent and Damen’s sons, including statements from them.

Théodore looked intimidated while answering the questions thrown at him. Laurent’s heart beat fast, terrified of what he might say. The guilt of taking him from Erasmus, the doubt of possibly having robbed his son of happiness due to his own selfishness took over him. And yet, when the most important question came, Théodore’s answer was honest and simple:

“And do you like living with Laurent and Damen, Théodore?” The judge asked. 

“Hm...” Théodore took a moment to think. “I do. They’re nice.” 

“I see… Well, you two seem to be mentally healthy enough to take care of a child despite your conditions, Mr. Laurent. And due to everything we’ve seen here, I believe it’s wise to leave the custody of the child with their adoptive parents, if you agree to continue your psychological treatment. Would you be willing to continue it?”

“Yes. Definitely.” Laurent agreed instantly.

“Very well, then. This court declares that the child, Aimeric, shall be returned to his adoptive parents.” 

The sound of the gavel echoed once through the walls and Laurent felt Damen hugging him. Their lawyer tapped them on the back and shook hands with Pallas, then Théo, who had been accompanying his brother and made sure to reach out. Hand shaking was a very grown up thing to do, after all. Nicaise, on the other hand, rushed towards his parents, and was pulled over the rail separating them by Damen.

Aimeric was brought to them an hour later. With a shout of “Daddy!”, he rushed towards Laurent and received a tight hug in return. Damen ran his fingers through Aimeric’s curls and kissed his head.

“Let’s go home.” Laurent told him and Aimeric hugged him even tighter.

Except for the shower, Aimeric did not let go of Laurent that day. They slept together, which made a jealous Théodore join them. Pallas and Nicaise helped each other to fight the embarrassment of sleeping with their parents by pretending to be simply accompanying each other. Damen had bought the biggest bed on the market, and it was still way too small for all six of them. Pallas and Théodore shared Laurent’s side of the bed with him, while Aimeric – Still holding tight onto Laurent – invaded Damen’s side, squeezed against Nicaise.

Damen struggled to fit his large body on the small space left for him, but managed after a few tries. He pretended not to notice Laurent’s amused smile from watching him try. All he wanted was to see his husband smiling, and if squeezing himself on a bed with three children and two other adults was enough to make him happy, Damen would do it any day.

 

\-------------

 

With the matter of Aimeric solved, Laurent was able to take Nicaise to an orphanage to do some volunteer work. The smaller children sat down as they served their food. Except for one little boy, on the table besides the one Laurent was currently serving. He refused to stay in place while the orphanage staff tried to calm him down.

“No!” He shouted, his words still barely comprehensible. “Let go! I want uncle Auguste!” 

Laurent’s eyes widened at that. He must have misheard it, for sure. There was no way this child knew his brother. It must have been another man sharing the same name. The same Veretian name. On the mouth of an Akielon toddler.

“Honey, your uncle Auguste isn’t here...” They tried to tell him.

“He is! He’s right there!” 

Laurent immediately, unconsciously rose his head to look in the boys direction. He was undoubtedly point at Laurent. There was no one else around them, except for the other children.

“That man’s name is Laurent. He’s not Auguste, sweetheart.” The staff told him. 

The boy frowned and went quiet. He was clearly confused and doubting himself. Laurent was not Auguste, but they looked so much alike. Lowering his head and shedding a few tears, the boy stopped struggling. The staff must have been new and had no idea how to keep a toddler from crying. Death was not an easy subject for anyone, much less for a child so young. Laurent served the last plate, trying to ignore the boy’s crying before approaching the troubled staff.

“May I help?” Laurent whispered and the staff turned to face him. “I have four of my own. I might be able to help.” 

“Huh, sure, I guess.” The staff stepped away and Laurent approached, crouching beside the boy. 

“Hello.”

The boy’s eyes widened as Laurent spoke. The tears briefly ceased.

“A-Are-Are you...” A sniff and a few sobs. “Are y-you uncle Auguste?” 

“I am not. I’m Laurent. I-” Laurent knew it was not right to say it without being absolutely sure, but at that moment, that boy needed it. “I’m his brother. My name’s Laurent.” 

“I wa-want uncle Auguste!” More tears dared to escape.

“I know, I know...” Laurent caressed his head. “And he is here. We just can’t see him.”

“You know, when we love someone, even if they are not with us anymore, they still live in our hearts. So, uncle Auguste is living right here.” Laurent touched over the boy’s heart. Looking up, Laurent saw Nicaise watching them, then touching his own heart.

The boy looked down, accompanying Laurent’s hand. Then he denied with his head.

“Un-Uncle Augu-Auguste-” He wiped his tears but was unable to stop the sobs. “Doesn’t fit there.” 

Laurent chuckled.

“Well, his body doesn’t. Because he’s really big, right?” The boy nodded and Laurent smiled. “But his heart is there. That’s why you remember him. He’ll stick with you forever, because you loved him very much.” 

The boy allowed Laurent to wipe his tears and nose with a tissue and held onto his hand. For the rest of the day, Laurent shared his attention between Nicaise and the young boy, who was quickly attached to him and was more than glad just to accompany them.

Damen parked in front of the orphanage, leaving Théodore and Aimeric in the car behind him. As soon as the front gates opened, Damen saw Laurent surrounded by children and other volunteers, holding an Akielon toddler. Damen knew the expression in Laurent’s face. It made him laugh to himself.

“Huh, sir? Are you looking for someone?” 

“Ah, yes. My husband. The-Well, the only blond in the yard.” Damen chuckled. 

“Oh, I see.” The staff smiled at him. “Should I get him?” 

“No, it’s okay. Give him around ten minutes and tell him I came and am waiting in the car. Can you do that?” 

“Huh… Sure.” 

“Thanks.” Damen smiled and turned around, getting back into the car. 

“Where’s dad?” Aimeric asked.

“He’ll be here soon.” Damen told him. And from the bottom of his heart, had to told back the desire of asking them how would they feel about yet another brother. It was not the time… Yet.

 

\--------------

 

Laurent was already fast asleep when Damen finally got home and noticed the small symbol on his phone’s notifications. It was not rare for him to receive voice messages, the issue was they usually meant trouble at the company. He rubbed his eyes and checked the clock. Midnight. He had stayed on the office until ten that night, had not had the chance to put his children to bed and, somehow, there was still work to do. Dreadfully, he tapped on the icon and listened to it the voice mail.

“Damen, hi. It’s Nikandros.” Nikandros leaving a voice mail. At that moment, Damen’s impatience turned into worry. “So, hm, well, this is not the best way to tell you, but I don’t have much time. I’ve been arrested. I’m at Ios Prison. If you could come visit me for like five minutes one of these days I’d be grateful. That’s all I guess. If you can’t come I’ll understand.” 

The voicemail ended but Damen did not lower his phone. Nikandros knew the people involved in The Purge, specially commanders such as him were being arrested. Why did he stay? He should have left the country or found somewhere to hide. Trying to push the million thoughts going through his head, Damen lay on the bed, trying to sleep without much success.

The very next day, he went to Ios Prison. For some reason, for the first time in his life, Damen had lied to Laurent, saying he would be at the office for a couple more hours. Somehow, visiting Nikandros seemed like a betrayal. As if he was supporting the people who had taken his husband away from him.

Damen sat behind the thick glass, and waited for a couple minutes before Nikandros came into the room. He sat on the chair on the other side of the glass and picked up the phone. Damen mirrored his gesture, still somewhat shocked at Nikandros’s black eye and cut lip.

“Thanks for coming.”

“What happened to you?” Damen asked. 

“Oh, this?” Nikandros pointed at his face. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. How’s Laurent and the kids?”

“Can’t you do something about it?” 

“Damen.” Nikandros voice was firm. “How are Laurent and the kids?” 

“...They’re fine.”

“Aimeric too? Is he all right, I mean… After everything?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’ll be fine. He won’t let go of Laurent, though.” Damen chuckled and Nikandros did too. Then Nikandros hissed and touched his cut lip. “You have to say something. Can I help?”

“No, Damen, it’s fine. Listen, I just wanted to see you, okay? I-” Nikandros paused and looked down. “There’s a chance I might get the death penalty.” 

Damen’s brain froze, his heart beat faster and his face went pale.

“W-What? Death-But why? You don’t deserve this, you-”

“I do, Damen.” Nikandros was serious, staring right into Damen’s eyes. “When I got Aimeric’s files, you see, I found another one. Of a two year old. And when I saw that I thought ‘Damn, maybe I can help him.’. But when I checked, he had already been killed. Shot to death like a hunted animal.”

Damen lowered his head, trying not to picture any of his children in that poor toddler’s place.

“I’m a military man, I’m used to the sound of gunshots. So hearing them from time to time, you sort of… It’s easy to forget that those are people dying. Or at least you try to. But when you come to the realization that they are, when something like that reminds you that those people are dead… It makes everything so real.”

“I-But-You saved Laurent.” Damen knew it was wrong, but tried to find a way to convince himself to forgive Nikandros.

“You know his mother was still alive?” Nikandros continued.

“Huh?”

“The toddler’s mother. When I found his file, I also found the mother’s. She was alive. She saw her baby getting shot.” 

Damen put the phone down and hid his face in his hands. Everything felt like a lie. While part of him understood all the mistakes Nikandros had made, the other refused to admit them. It was like the last time he had seen his father all over again. Someone he loved and cherished being awful to Veretians simply because they had been born in a different country.

Damen took a few seconds to pick up the phone again, still looking down. He could not look into Nikandros’s eyes yet.

“Why did you do this? Why-” 

“I don’t know. Fear? Of losing everything, or losing my life? Maybe… Comfort? I don’t know. I can’t explain.”

“Do you hate them? Do you hate Veretians that much?”

“If I did, I would have never allowed Laurent to stay at my house. I would have done everything to stop you from marrying him. I don’t have any sort of hateful feelings towards them I was just-”

Damen waited.

“I was just a coward who did not dare to stand up. And for that, I do have to pay. I didn’t invite you here to earn your forgiveness or to ask for a way out. I just wanted to apologize to you, your husband and your children. For everything. You don’t have to forgive me, but I have to ask for it.”

“I understand.” Damen nodded and rose his head, finally facing Nikandros. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Thanks for coming.”

“No problem.”

“Bye.” 

“… Bye.” 

Nikandros smiled softly and nodded once before hanging up the phone and standing. The guards took him back to his cell and Damen returned home.

When Théodore came to greet him as soon as he walked past the door, Damen understood more than ever the impact of Nikandros’s actions. Laurent did not talk much about his years in the camps and it all seemed somewhat far from reality. But as he saw Théodore’s smile and imagined him getting shot to death in front of Laurent, Damen was brought closer to everything Laurent had been through.

“Laurent.” Damen called, walking into the bathroom.

“Yes?” Laurent did not turn. He knelt on the floor, holding Aimeric by the arm and washing his body. 

Damen hesitated, sitting on the edge of the hot tub. Aimeric played with a few cups, splashing some water around, on Damen and Laurent.

“...You missed a spot.”

“Hm? Where?” Laurent turned Aimeric.

“Here.” Damen pinched Aimeric’s bottom making him laugh and jump.

“Damen!” Laurent had to hold Aimeric in his arms, getting himself completely wet to keep him from slipping and falling on the tub.

Damen tried to apologize but ended up laughing. He took Aimeric’s towel, knelt beside Laurent and helped drying them. In a few  minutes Damen was in Aimeric’s room , holding him in his arms, caressing his head while  Aimeric slept with his cheek squeezed against Damen’s chest.  Laurent  entered the room as silently as he could, holding his laptop. 

“Is Théo asleep?”

Laurent nodded to confirm. Damen leaned in and kissed his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Laurent asked.

“I never really understood all you’ve been through. I mean, I knew bits of it and I knew it was awful, but-” Damen sighed. “I spoke with Nikandros today.”

Laurent rose an eyebrow.

“He’s in jail. Probably sentenced to death soon.”

Laurent said nothing. He did not frown or smile, nor had any sort of reaction to the news.

“I'm so sorry. I just-There’s no excuse for lying. I’m really sorry. He’s my friend, I just wanted to... Show support. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

“I forgive you this time. But if you lie to me again, I’m not sure if I will. Even if it hurts me, I want the truth, Damen.”

“I understand. I'm really sorry. And thank you.” Damen sighed. “Well, Laurent, I would like to speak to you now, not as your husband, but as an Akielon.”

Damen carefully put Aimeric down on his crib before holding Laurent’s hands, looking into his eyes.

“I’m so sorry for everything my country has done to you. I truly, from the bottom of my heart apologize for it. It was unfair and there’s no excuse for it. Still, I beg that you find it in your heart to-”

Damen stopped. He could not and would not ask Laurent for forgiveness. It was not his right to do so. He had not been inside the camps, he had not experienced all that Laurent had been through.

“I know Akielons are not responsible. I know there are good people. But they were the ones who gave me away. It will take time, perhaps another generation for me to make sure they understood what we’ve been through.”

“I know. I understand. I would like to ask for forgiveness, but I can’t.”

Laurent stroked Damen’s cheek, softly kissing his lips.

“ _You_ don’t need to ask for forgiveness. You have already done enough for me.”

“I haven’t. I wasn’t there for you.” Damen kissed Laurent’s knuckles.

“It’s not your fault. You tried.”

“I did. So much. But I should apologize either way. Not as your husband, but as an Akielon. What we did to you was unforgivable.”

“It was. And I appreciate the apology.” Laurent entwined his fingers with Damen’s and whispered. “And as a Veretian I apologize for what must have happened to your fellow Akielons across the border.”

“I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

The corner of Laurent’s mouth rose and he kissed Damen’s lips.

 

\-------------

 

 

Damen checked the clock for the tenth time before slamming the car trunk. He marched into the house, loudly clapping his hands.

“Kids, come on! We have to go!”

“I can’t find my shoes!” Théodore shouted, coming downstairs.

“I had set them apart for you, Théodore! And where are your brothers?”

Théo glanced up, then rolled his eyes. Damen did the same and let out an exasperated sigh. He rushed upstairs, telling Théodore to get another pair of shoes in the laundry room and to not go outside without him. As he walked into Aimeric’s room, he found Aimeric and Isander fighting over a stuffed seal. Each of them grabbed an end of the poor seal and pulled until Aimeric decided to take matters into his own hands and slap Isander right on the head.

“Aimeric!” Damen pulled him away, Isander cried and the seal was left forgotten on the floor. “Apologize to your brother right now!”

“No!” Aimeric shouted. “He stole my toy!”

“It doesn’t matter! You hit him. Apologize right now.”

Aimeric pouted, crossed his arms and turned his face away. Damen rubbed his face.

“Aimeric, I don’t have time for this. Apologize right now or I’ll call a nanny and you’re not going to Patras with us.”

Much against his will, Aimeric turned to Isander and mumbled an apology. Damen made them hug before Théo shouted from downstairs.

“Dad, come on!”

“In a minute!” Damen shouted back. “Listen here, Isander, you can’t take your brother’s toys without his permission.”

“Bu-But he nev-never lends them to me...” Isander mumbled between sobs.

“Aimeric, lend your brother your toys.” Damen said.

“But they’re mine!”

“And that’s fine, but if you’re not playing with them, why can’t you lend them to your brother? You like some of his toys too, right? And he always lends them to you. You need to learn to share.”

“Dad!” Théo shouted.

“I’m coming!” Damen took a deep breath to regain his patience. _Laurent is an angel, that’s for sure._ He thought. “Now, you two stop fighting, leave the seal and let’s go!”

Damen took both their hands, spend another six or seven minutes looking for their coats and shoes before putting them in the car. Théodore was old enough to put himself in his chair, which at least made preparations move slightly faster.

They arrived at the school fifteen minutes late, which drove Damen crazy. “Late” was a word he had been forced to add to his vocabulary after his children came along. They got in and found Laurent with one hand on Nicaise’s head, surrounded by two Akielon men – One of them holding an infant – and a woman accompanied by a young girl. Laurent seemed more relaxed than usual, even allowing a faint smile to escape his lips. Damen approached them, not enough to interfere.

“I honestly admire what you did. I honestly don’t know if I would be able to speak about such an experience like you did. Thank you for letting us know more, even if it makes us feel ashamed for our ignorance.” The woman said.

“Thank you. I appreciate you listening.” Laurent replied.

“And you have such a strong and brave kid. I hope mine can grow up to be like him one day.” One of the man added.

“I have to agree with you there.” Laurent stroked Nicaise’s head and Nicaise’s cheeks flushed as he turned to the side.

“Dad!” Nicaise ran up to Damen as soon as he saw him.

“Hey, kiddo. How was it?”

“Good. Dad’s good at talking.”

“Oh, I know that all too well.” Damen chuckled and kissed Nicaise’s head. “Where’s Pallas?”

“He’s over there with Lazar.”

“Hey.” Laurent approached and kissed Damen’s lips. “Ready to go?”

“Ready. Let me just call Pallas.”

Gathered, the family got into the car and headed to Patras. They settled at the hotel and Pallas and Lazar were left in charge of the children for a little while. Lazar had the terrified expression of a man left in a room filled with man-eating zombies. Damen felt sorry, but Laurent claimed it was a ritual of passage to officially become a part of their family. Which ended up being somewhat accurate.

Laurent walked down familiar streets, holding Damen’s hand. They passed the alley Laurent used to live and Damen felt his heart shrink. At that very place, a few years ago, his husband and children were suffering, starving, for no reason but his nationality. The color of his skin and eyes had made him and their son’s targets, and Damen wanted nothing more than to leave that place.

Yet they did not. They stayed, for hours and hours, waiting patiently. As night approached, Laurent finally heard the familiar sound of a shopping cart approaching. The corner of his lips rose in a smile for a second as he saw Orlant approaching. It took him a second to recognize Laurent.

“Blondie?” Orlant rose an eyebrow.

“Hello, Orlant.”

“Whoa, looking good! How the hell did you get so rich? Let me know and I’ll go back to Vere right now!” Orlant laughed.

“Not me.” Laurent indicated Damen with his head. “My husband.”

Orlant looked at Damen from top to bottom.

“Okay, first of all, how do you even survive a fuck with this guy?” Orlant asked Laurent before turning to Damen before Laurent could even answer. “And are you looking for another husband?”

Orlant extended his hand. Damen laughed and shook it.

“Sorry. I’m one hundred percent taken.”

“I thought you’d be scared of fucking him.” Laurent mocked.

“For that kind of money I’ll fuck a damn bear.” Orlant paused to take another look at Damen. “Which honestly would be pretty much the same as fucking him.”

Laurent could not help but let out a soft chuckle. Damen pushed him for that.

“Well, I did not come here to give you a bear, much less my husband. But I will give you something to repay everything you’ve done for me.” Laurent took a check from his wallet and offered it.

Orlant’s eyes went wide as he stared at the amount of money Laurent had offered him. For once, there were no smart remarks or comments. Just silence. Orlant looked up at both of them before reaching out to take the check. Laurent rose his hand, not allowing him to take it.

“You know, you’re a bit dirty for this check. Perhaps you could have it after a shower and a good night of sleep at a nice hotel. Our treat of course.”

“I knew helping you was a good deal, blondie.” Orlant chuckled. “Well, shall we?”

Laurent took Damen’s hand and they left, followed by the gentle sound of Orlant’s cart.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Once again, I'm truly sorry for taking so long to update. In the end the chapter became a little bit longer than I thought so I decided to make this part an epilogue. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> EDIT: I truly apologize for the late Epilogue. I thought it was up already. I'm so sorry!

_Auguste was an honest man. He did not feel embarrassed about discussing anything with anyone, which was sometimes seen as a bit intrusive by others. But the one thing he would never discuss was the subject of death. In fact, Damen had probably never heard the word leaving Auguste’s lips. Which was why it felt strange when, during a late night game, Auguste brought it up._

_Laurent was already sleeping, refusing to stay awake until three in the morning to watch men chasing a ball. Auguste and Damen tried to be quiet not to wake the children, but it was proven to be a challenge after a few drinks. When the game was finally over, Auguste was lazily draping on Damen’s arm, staring blankly at the television while a commercial for a touching movie, one of those made for reflection upon life and death, aired._

“ _Have you ever thought about it?” Auguste started._

“ _About what?”_

“ _Death.”_

“ _I-” Damen frowned, specially considering the way Auguste’s heart beat fast against his arm. “Not really. I mean, sometimes I realize that, eventually, I’m going to die, but I just try to take it off my mind.”_

“ _I-I don’t want to be buried.” Auguste said, bluntly. “I don’t want my little brother to remember me as a corpse without eyes and organs under the ground.”_

“ _Why would you be-You mean you want to be an organ donor?”_

“ _Yes. Take everything. My hair too. Give it to someone who can use it. I won’t need it anymore.”_

“ _I see. I wonder if there is a market for white hair.” Damen pondered and Auguste chuckled._

“ _I will have the prettiest white hair you have ever seen!” Auguste shook his head and his glorious hair moved graciously, falling over his shoulder. Damen was enthralled. “Stop staring!”_

“ _You’re the one shaking your hair around me. You should know I’m gonna stare.” Damen took another sip of his drink and chuckled._

“ _Anyway, I’ll drop the subject but,” Auguste sighed. “Please, promise me that you’ll take care of him after I’m gone.”_

_Damen’s smile faded and he put the glass on the table._

“ _I will always take care of him. I promise.”_

_The corner of Auguste’s mouth rose and, after a few seconds of silence, he rose. Then fell back on the couch._

“ _Feeling it?” Damen chuckled._

“ _Definitely. I’ll just stay here for a while.”_

“ _Be my guest.”_

 

\-------------

 

Laurent’s hand rested on Isander and Aimeric’s heads, guiding their way. Damen and Pallas struggled trying to keep the picnic towel from flying away. Nicaise held his uncle’s urn. His eyes were swollen and reddish, just like when he had left his room in the morning. They all sat down. Laurent distributed the plates and forks to his sons, then to Damen and himself. Damen pinched Nicaise’s cheek with his knuckles, turning the boy’s watery eyes away from the urn by his side. Pallas removed the plastic recipient from inside the picnic basket and served spaghetti to his family.

“Thanks, Pallas.” Damen said. “This looks really good, doesn’t it Théo?” 

Raising his head, Théo nodded, still unsure. He glanced at Laurent and realized he looked somewhat sorrowful. And so did Nicaise. In fact, except for Aimeric, all of those around him seemed depressed, even though they were eating in such a good place for running around, which made Théo very excited.

The family ate together, the wind making the task much harder than it should have been. Though inconvenient, the wind managed to make the mood lighter by throwing Damen’s hair into his mouth and throwing strands of spaghetti away from their plates. It was almost as if Auguste was controlling it, revengeful from the sight of his family eating his favorite food without him.

When they were done, a small portion of the pain in their hearts had left, being taken away with the wind. The family approached the cliff and Laurent held Aimeric and Isander by the hand, kneeling by their side. Pallas went first, softly turning the urn until some of the ashes fell and were instantly taken towards the ocean by the wind. The family watched, waiting for the grains to fade before turning to Nicaise, waiting for him to do the same.  _Good bye, uncle Auguste._ , Nicaise whispered as they watched the ashes slowly disappear from their sight. 

Then it was Théodore’s turn. Laurent had briefly explained what they would be doing, but it was strange for Théo to comprehend the death of someone he had never met. All he understood was that Laurent’s brother, Auguste, was loved by those around him. 

“Here. Shake it just a little bit.” Damen explained. 

“Okay!” Théo nodded once and shook the urn with all the care and coordination a six year old could manage. “Bye bye!”

Théo cheerfully said, as if he would meet Auguste soon. Laurent kissed his cheek and passed the urn to Aimeric. For the smaller ones Laurent had given a small cup for them to scoop the ashes. Aimeric did it unceremoniously. He waved his hand and that was enough for him. It was harder for Isander. He did not want to release the ashes, afraid it would make it impossible for Auguste to ever return. After some convincing from Laurent, Isander finally let go, wiping his tears. Laurent then took the urn and handed it over to Damen. Without questioning his reasons, Damen took the urn from him and participated in the event.

Lastly, Laurent took the urn. More than half of it was gone. He stepped closer to the edge of the cliff and took a deep breath then scattered the ashes. There was silence among them. Nothing to be heard except the chirp of birds and the waves crashing down below.

Pallas was the first one to move, giving Damen a meaningful look before pulling his brothers to help clean up what had been left of their picnic. Damen nodded and approached Laurent. He did not say a word, but briefly stroked Laurent’s arm. A way to let him know he was close by if needed. It took a while for Laurent to reach out, holding his hand and entwining their fingers. Damen stepped closer and, without letting go of his husband’s hand, Laurent held onto his arm, resting his head on Damen’s bicep.

“Daddy, come here!” Aimeric called.

“Let’s go. Our little beasts await us.” Laurent chuckled, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah. Our one, two, three, four,” Damen pointed his finger to each of their sons, counting. “five little beasts.”

“Just like you promised.”

“I never go back on my promises.”

Laurent flushed at that. He knew what it meant. Damen had promised him two very important things in his life: Five children and that he would always be by Laurent’s side. And Damen _never_ broke his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, thank you guys so much for keeping up with the story and accompanying my journey while writing it. orz  
> I really hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I truly appreciate all the support you guys have given me, all the comments and all the kudos. They all gave me motivation to write more and more.  
> Thank you so, so much and I hope I can see you guys on my next works!


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